Breaking the Cycle
by L3ftHRyd3r
Summary: Left alone with his infant son for one week, Vegeta comes to realize that Trunks is turning into a momma's boy. It's a race against time. Can he show his son what it truly means to be a saiyan before Bulma returns?
1. Accidents Happen

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball Z or the characters.

**AN: Okay, got that out of the way. I want to thank my beta reader, niteryde, for looking this over for me. This is my first attempt at a Vegeta/Trunks family story. Let me know how I did. I hope everyone enjoys this tale.**

* * *

><p>The lab was silent with the exception of a small rattling sound emanating from a small rectangle play pen sitting in the center of the room. Surrounded by a variety of stuffed animals and other instruments of excitement sat not only the heir to the building that housed him, but the prince to a vanquished race.<p>

Trunks had a perplexed look on his face while he sucked furiously on the small white pacifier in his mouth. His blue eyes were attentive on a small red and white square box that sat between his small legs. He had seen many of the same boxes on different days and each time he was granted a surprise from inside - a clown, bear or other animal emerging once he turned the small lever on the right side of the device.

He glanced at the handle he held in the palm of his right hand. He had turned it a couple of times and yet nothing happened. He couldn't understand what was wrong. Picking up the box, he shook it back and forth. The rattling sound echoed off the laboratory walls. There was something in the box, he knew there was.

Setting the box down, he once again took the handle into his hand and began turning it slowly. A light jingle emitted from the box bringing his anticipation level up. He waited eagerly for his surprise to greet him face to face just like all the others.

But nothing happened.

The young Saiyan frowned as he fell onto his back and rolled over so that he was now positioned on all fours. He stood up, steadied his balance and turned back toward his toy. Bending down, he took it into his hands and just as quick tossed it over the edge of his playpen.

He laughed with delight as the toy smashed against the marble floor and released the small dog that sat dormant inside the box. A small smirk fell across his face as if he had secured his victory over the stubborn inanimate object.

Peering over the top of the mesh prison that encased him, he watched his mother work frivolously over one of her many inventions. He was perceptive, even at his young age, to his mother's routine. He watched as she smiled, fussed and occasionally swore at whatever new project she indulged herself in. This time, however she was silent which caught his curiosity. He turned his head from left to right in an attempt to get a better look at whatever had completely captured his mother's attention.

His vision was obscured by Bulma as she walked around the table she was working from. Trunks scrunched his nose and twisted the corner of his lips into a scowl. He was not going to be deterred from viewing what he hoped was a new toy for him to play with. Tightening his grip on the edge of the playpen, he struggled to pull himself over the top. As he pushed off with his legs his fingers slipped, causing the little miscreant to fall back on his diapered behind. His scowl deepened as he tried again.

Down he went for a second time. He huffed in frustration and stared blankly at his hands as if to wonder why they weren't helping him with his break out. He latched onto the edge of the playpen again but paused as a loud voice startled him. A voice he had become very much accustomed to.

"WOMAN! Woman, where are you?"

Trunks smiled at the sound of his father's voice. Despite the tone, the only thing on his mind was his immediate release from the four walls that kept him from looking at his new toy. He watched as the laboratory door swung open and his father stood before him with an angry look in his eyes. The young Saiyan hastily rushed over to the south end of his playpen and extended his arms upward. His little legs bounced happily as he watched his father approach him.

Vegeta's eyes never swayed away from his wife as he made his way toward her. Stepping to the side he bypassed the obstruction with his son inside and continued toward the source of his anger. He stopped and paused as he eyed the vision before him, taking a special interest in her ass as she bent over the table in front of her to reach something she needed on the other side. It took every will within his body to restrain himself. He had bigger issues to contest.

"Do you not hear me calling you, woman?"

Tightening her grip on the open-end wrench in her left hand, Bulma slowly turned toward her husband.

"Vegeta, I don't have time to argue with you right now. Can't you see I'm busy?"

"What I see is no breakfast on the table and it's already past ten o'clock. You like to invent things, right? So invent yourself a watch to remind you of when you're supposed to have food on the table." Vegeta glanced at the weapon in Bulma's hand. "What are you going to do with that?"

"You'll find out if you don't leave me alone," Bulma stated as serious as possible. "I really need to finish this in the next two hours."

Vegeta threw his head back with a smug look on his face. "You know if you tried to attack me I'd stop you before you even began."

Bulma sighed. "You know I would not try to hit you with this wrench, Vegeta, it's just that I have to finish this prototype."

Taking his eyes off his wife since the first time he entered the lab, Vegeta glanced behind her at the item that had taken her away from performing her wifely duties, at least in his eyes. He contemplated blasting it to pieces.

"What the hell are you working on that is more important than preparing my breakfast?"

Bulma smiled and extended her arm over her invention as if she were presenting a prize to a contestant on a game show.

"This is a revolutionary invention that is going to change the way we travel from point A to point B. Allow me to introduce you to Capsule Corporations first electric running car."

Vegeta looked over the small car that sat in the center of the table. "That's nothing more than one of the toys the boy plays with. Stop wasting time and fix my breakfast."

Bulma immediately place her hands on her hips, her smile long gone. "It is not a toy, it's a prototype."

"Same shit," Vegeta replied while shrugging his indifference. "What are you going to do with that thing? Put your fingers inside and drive it down the street?" He smiled at his witty remark. "I'd like to see that. The brilliant Bulma reduced to nothing more than an utter buffoon."

"Oh, really?" Bulma smirked. "You think I'm brilliant?"

Vegeta blinked, recalling the words he used. He frowned immediately. "Stop stalling and get upstairs and fix me something to eat. I've been training all morning and now I'm hungry so get going."

Trunks watched the exchange between his parents with an unpleasant look on his face. His desire to view his potential new toy was thwarted by his parents disregard for his immediate release. He slowly walked toward the north end of the playpen, the side closest to his parents. Removing the pacifier in his mouth, Trunks cried out softly to gain his parents attention.

He huffed as his attempt failed.

Pushing the pacifier back into his mouth, Trunks pondered his next alternative move. He grinned as the gums in his mouth kept his pacifier from falling out. Keeping his hold on the edge of the playpen, he widened his stance and bent his knees. With his eyes focused on his parents, he scrunched his face in an attempt to release the one thing he knew would grant him his freedom.

Walking around the table, Vegeta carefully eyed the device on the table. Taking in into his hand, he blinked then looked at his wife.

"What are you wasting your time on this thing for?"

"I am not wasting my time, Vegeta," Bulma stated. "This invention will change the world. If we all used up less gas then we could eliminate pollutants in the air over the next few years. That's only a shell of the actual car but I was able to apply the wheels to the outside as well as the seats and steering wheel on the inside."

"Hn," Vegeta huffed as he carelessly tossed the small car toward Bulma, smiling as she frantically attempted to capture the item in her hands. "Still looks like a waste of time."

"Fine, Vegeta, but you'll see one day. I'm going to present this to the scientific convention tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be able to attract some buyers right away. This will put Capsule Corporations further on the map."

"Whatever, just hurry up and fix me my breakfast," Vegeta's demeanor changed as his nose tilted upward. He cautiously sniffed the air then paused before pinching the ends of his nose. "What is that fucking smell?"

"Hm?" Looking around, Bulma turned and looked at her son who looked back at her with a smile on his face. She giggled as she watched her son's expression resemble that of a pleasant reaction. She knew what that meant. "It looks like Trunks had an accident."

Vegeta groaned as he watched Bulma walk toward their son and remove him from his playpen.

"Trunks did you have an accident? Did you make a stink?" Bulma cooed as she rubbed her son's back soothingly.

"Make a stink, he _does_ stink! Whatever you are feeding him, don't give that to me," Vegeta complained.

"Stop it, Vegeta," Bulma warned. "You'll hurt his feelings and besides, you don't smell that good either after training all morning. Maybe you need someone to clean you up as well."

"My smell is from training hard to ensure someone doesn't come to this planet to kill you. His smell is to kill us all. He's too old to smell that bad."

"He's only twenty two months old, Vegeta. He's bound to have accidents," Bulma replied as she turned and carried their son out of the laboratory.

Vegeta quickly gave chase after them. "Twenty-two months old is _too_ damn old to shit on yourself. Doesn't he know how to use the fucking bathroom? That is disgusting."

Glancing over her shoulder, Bulma rolled her eyes at the angry prince.

"Well maybe while you look after him this week you can teach him how to use the potty upstairs. Consider it a way to bond with your son."

Vegeta stopped walking and stared at Bulma with a confused look on his face. "Who says I'm looking after him for a week? That is your son."

"Our son," Bulma corrected him. "I thought you'd forget if I told you a week in advance but I was hoping you would remember something that was important to me. I'm going with my parents to the science convention over in North City and I asked that you watch Trunks while I was away."

Vegeta shook his head and the three of them packed into the elevator to transmit them to the top floor.

"You never asked me because if you did I would have remembered telling you no. I'm not watching him. Just take him with you."

"I can't do that. I'll be in meetings all week. It will be too hectic for an infant and I would ask Chi-Chi to watch him but she already has Goten to take care of. I don't want to add another child for her to care for," Bulma explained.

Vegeta scoffed and folded his arms against his chest. "She can look after one more because I'm not watching him, Bulma. What made you think I would agree to that?"

"Hm? Well let's see-" Bulma looked upward as if to consider the reason for her request. "-because he's your son, and you need to spend time with him. I can't always take him with me everywhere I go. Do you want him to become a momma's boy?"

Stepping off the elevator, Vegeta watched as Bulma walked by him then he quickly followed.

"Momma's boy?"

Bulma nodded as she proceeded up the stairs toward Trunks room. "Yes, it is what you call a child who is always around his mother. Following her around and always holding on to her. They never leave their mother's side."

Vegeta chuckled. "You mean like Kakarot's oldest brat?"

"Cut it out, Vegeta. That's not nice."

Pushing open the door to Trunks room, Bulma quickly laid him on the changing table on the right side of the room. Slowly she unbuttoned his pants and began slipping his legs out one by one.

"Look Vegeta, I never ask you for a favor but I really need one this time. With both my parents coming with me I can't depend on them to help me out."

Leaning against the wall beside the table, Vegeta watched as Bulma continued to undress their son.

"I can see why your father is going but what is your mother going for? What can she do except get in the way?"

Unfastening Trunks' diaper, Bulma glanced at Vegeta. "She's going for support. Since my father retired, they've decided they want to do everything together, and that includes going to this convention. Maybe one day you and I will do everything together without a big argument."

"Doubt it," Vegeta replied as he continued to watch Bulma's actions with their son. His eyes enlarged as he watched Bulma lower his diaper and reveal the contents inside. He swiftly turned his head aside and pinched his nose. "Ugh, that boy is repulsive. There is food in there. Doesn't he know how to chew? Disgusting."

Bulma sighed as she removed the diaper and set it aside. She immediately grabbed some wipes from a nearby tin and began cleaning her son's lower region. She glanced at her husband as he refused to turn around and finish watching her clean their son.

"Stop acting so childish. Teach him how to use the potty while I'm gone." Setting the wipes aside, Bulma paused and looked at her son who was staring at her with a smile on his face. "You want to learn how to use the potty, right Trunks?"

Trunks kicked his legs and laughed but did not respond. Bulma smiled and brought her fingers under his chin, tickling him playfully.

"Quit playing and finish cleaning him so you can throw out that filthy shit over there," Vegeta spoke as he turned back toward the two.

His mouth gaped open as the feeling of warm liquid fell against his leg. Looking down he growled at the sight of urine hitting his clothes.

"What the fuck? Woman!"

Looking back at her husband, Bulma held her laughter as she quickly grabbed a clean diaper and held it over her son. She studied her husband's face as he shook immensely in anger. She couldn't hold her laughter anymore and threw her head back as it echoed throughout the room.

"You…You made him do that on purpose. That little brat!" Vegeta yelled angrily.

"Stop yelling, Vegeta. You know he's sorry for doing that," Bulma turned toward Trunks. "Aren't you?"

Trunks laughed which only angered Vegeta more. "You expect me to watch him after that? You can forget it."

Vegeta couldn't leave the room fast enough as he stripped his clothes off with every step he took. The thought of remaining in clothing soaked in his son's urine made his skin crawl. Stepping into the bathroom, Vegeta cut the water on and waited until steam engulfed him. He stood beneath the water as it covered his body completely.

As he water cascaded down Vegeta's body he contemplated his wife's request. It was out of the question, his son or not. His days were just that, his, and he was not looking to add an unneeded distraction. He had made it his sole mission to increase his power and strength; he had to. After witnessing the son of his rival kill one of the vilest creatures Earth had ever seen, he took it as a personal sign that he wasn't up to par. His level of contingent was mediocre at best, especially if he gets bested by a mere child.

Glancing at the bathroom door, he could hear the sound of heels moving against the floor. An obvious sign that his wife was approaching. He frowned. She always seemed to interrupt him during his personal moments. He waited for the door to swing open and the angry creature that always took over his wife when she couldn't get her way right away to appear.

He waited for what seemed like an eternity but the door never opened. He looked puzzled for a moment as he heard the same footsteps from earlier begin to fade away. He smiled once he was sure she had left him on peace. His thoughts however had shifted back toward Bulma's request.

He just wouldn't do it and that was final. The boy was her responsibility, not his. As he saw it, he only had one responsibility and that was to train and improve his skills. His desires did not include looking after a baby who still couldn't control his bowels. In the end, he concluded the boy was better off with his mother. There was no way he was going to be stuck with him for an entire week.

Shutting the water off, Vegeta reached for the nearest towel but felt his hand on an empty bar. He frowned and stuck his head out from behind the shower curtain to see there were no spare towels in the room.

"That damn woman..." he muttered beneath his breath as he emerged from the shower dripping wet.

He rambled on about the laziness of Earth women as he grabbed the knob to the bathroom door and pulled it back. His attempt to leave was stalled by the image of Bulma as she stood in front of the door with a large white towel hanging loosely from her arm.

"I'm sorry, the laundry isn't back from being cleaned but I was able to find a towel for you to use," she said.

Vegeta hesitated as he stared at the towel then at his wife. Mumbling beneath his breath he took the towel and proceeded to wrap it around his waist.

"I'm still not watching the boy," he stated matter-of-factly.

Bulma nodded. "I know and it's okay. I called Yamcha and he agreed to look after him the week."

The heat within Vegeta's body began to rise causing the drops of water that sat on his skin to dry up and dissipate.

"You will not allow that idiot to look after him. I won't allow it and it is not up for discussion."

Bulma stared at her husband momentarily before sighing. "Alright Vegeta, I'll just take him with me, okay?" Turning away from him, Bulma walked towards the bedroom door then stopped. "Your breakfast is on the table downstairs. Hurry up and eat it before it gets cold."

Vegeta stood dumbfounded in front of the bathroom as the image of his wife disappeared. He waited for her to return and complain about his lack of desire to watch their son but she never came back. Had he seriously gotten his way without an argument? A part of him was satisfied that Bulma was learning to leave him alone, while the other half was disappointed she didn't argue with him further. He couldn't deny the heat that pulsed through his body when they did. If he had it his way he would have taken her bent over the bathroom sink just from the moment she began to dispute his response.

Chuckling softly, he kept the image of his needs toward the back of his mind and decided for now he would concentrate on feeding his hunger and then he would concern himself with his sexual desires.

Pulling a white t-shirt and black shorts from his drawer, Vegeta dressed in haste and left the room without a second thought. His steps were steady as he walked down the stairs and toward the kitchen to engulf his meal. He stopped in the doorway and watched as his son sat in his high-chair playfully slapping the palm of his hand against a now flatten array of syrup and pancakes.

Vegeta mused as he sat down on the opposite end of the table and stared at the stack of pancakes sitting before him. He smiled and began eating as quickly as he could; his long overdue hunger slowly began to subside.

"How is it?" Bulma questioned as she walked into the room.

Vegeta glanced at her through the corner of his eye as he continued to shovel remnants of his breakfast into his mouth. He watched as she struggled with the small prototype she was working on, as well as a couple of blueprints that were tucked beneath her arm. He snorted and placed his attention back on the true matter at hand.

"It's fine." He smiled. "A little dry though."

Bulma nodded her head stiffly and walked around the table. She smiled as she looked at her son who returned her glance with a huge grin on his face. Syrup dripped along his cheeks and chin as his lips smacked together.

"Mommy!" he called out with joy.

Watching the interaction between the two, Vegeta couldn't help but keep his eyes solely on his wife. For the second time she had refused to engage him in conversation when he obviously had insulted her food. The fork in his hand clattered against his plate as he sat back against his chair. Something wasn't right but he couldn't quite put his finger on the situation. He couldn't help but wonder what his wife was up to. She wasn't acting like herself.

Wiping her son's mouth with a napkin she retrieved from the table, Bulma cleaned Trunks' face.

"I have to get going. I told my parents I would meet them at the hotel a little early so we can look over the blueprints for the presentations we'll be giving this week." She turned and looked at Vegeta. "I've made extra food but I didn't have time to make enough to last the week. I'm sorry but you know where all the credit cards are in case you want to order something to eat."

Vegeta didn't reply. He just stared at Bulma, continuing to wonder what was wrong with her. This wasn't like her, not at all. She wasn't arguing with him and she even apologized, something he was sure she didn't know how to do in the years he'd known her.

Bulma smiled as she struggled to shift the items in her arm to one side while attempting to lift her son up from beneath his left arm.

"C'mon Trunks. You get to see North City and stay in a hotel. How does that sound?" she questioned.

Trunks laughed with delight as Bulma continued to struggle to pull him up so she could support him against her waist.

Vegeta sat uncomfortably in his seat as he continued to watch Bulma try to keep everything in her arms and support their son at the same time. He couldn't explain it but a sudden fear was pulsating through his body. Where the feeling was coming from, he wasn't sure, but the sight before him was making him feel very uneasy.

"I'll be back a week from today. Make sure you don't break the gravity chamber while I'm gone. I won't be able to fix it for you while I'm gone. Have a good week."

Vegeta was silent as he watched his wife and son slowly stagger toward the entry way of the kitchen. Trunks was oblivious to the situation in its entirety but he knew Bulma had to have more common sense than she was showing. There was no way she would be able to make it out of the house without dropping something from her arms, and if something were to fall, it had better not be his son.

He refused to take the risk and before he could contest his feelings, he found himself standing behind the blue heiress with a hand on her shoulder. He glanced at his son who looked back at him with the same smile on his face. He shook his head. The situation was nothing to smile about.

"Give him to me," he spoke as he took Trunks away from Bulma and held him in his arms. "I will not have you drop him because you're too lazy to make more than one trip back inside to get him."

"Thank you."

Bulma balanced the remaining items under her arms and walked toward the front door with Vegeta and Trunks following close behind.

"You're leaving now?" Vegeta questioned as he followed his wife outside. He watched as she placed the blueprints and prototype on the grass and reached into her pocket.

"Yes," Bulma retrieved two capsules. Pressing down on capsule #25 and #31, she tossed them to the side to reveal her helicopter and two suitcases, one larger than the other. "Why?"

Moving closer to his wife, Vegeta held Trunks to the side and brushed his lips against his wife's ear.

"You can't leave until I take you upstairs and plow you through the bed."

Bulma smiled as she turned her head and pressed her lips against his cheek. "I'll owe you one when I return. I have to go now."

Picking up her suitcases, she placed them in the backseat of the helicopter then went back for her blueprints.

"I love you, Vegeta. Thank you for being so understanding about me having to go away for a week."

She placed the blueprints inside the helicopter then walked back toward her family. Snaking her hand around her husband's waist, she brought her head against his chest.

"I'm going to miss you so much."

Glancing at his wife, Vegeta smiled as he pressed his hips closer to hers. "Something on me will miss you too. Why don't you go make him happy before you leave?"

Smiling, Bulma lifted her head and pressed her lips against his, kissing him softly. She pulled away and blew him a kiss. Turning away, her smile increased imitating a sinister smirk. Climbing into the helicopter, she waved to Vegeta as she blew him another kiss and closed the window to seal herself inside.

She mentally concluded she had to call Chi-Chi when she arrived. She couldn't wait to inform her closest friend that her plan of being quiet and seductive confused the Saiyan prince. It was amazing to see the same thing that worked with her husband work on hers. She kept in mind she could never reveal the truth to him. The world wouldn't be able to stand him finding out he fell for a ploy usually reserved for Goku.

Starting the helicopter, she waved goodbye and took off as quickly as she could.

Hearing a whining sound, Vegeta finally noticed Trunks in his arms. He blinked in disbelief. He could not comprehend what had just transpired. Glancing down, he felt the hands of his son cling tightly to his white t-shirt as a gust of wind encircled them thanks to the chopper's blades. His anger had reached its end. He mentally cursed himself for allowing himself to fall for her kindness. He made a note to himself to never believe a word she said for as long as he _allowed_ her to live.

He shook his head. This was not going to happen. Not while he could still do something about it. Pulling Trunks away from his clothes, Vegeta glared at the baby who suddenly had a look of fright on his face. Without saying a word, the prince moved quickly, so fast in fact that his movement would have been oblivious to the untrained eye. He appeared in front of the helicopter and stared menacing at Bulma.

"I'm in no mood for your games, woman. You are taking this boy with you and that's final."

Lifting the window to her helicopter upward, Bulma smiled innocently at her clearly angry husband.

"It's just for one week, Vegeta. You two could learn so much from each other." she replied.

Vegeta scoffed as he held Trunks out and waited for Bulma to retrieve him. "Save that line of crap for somebody else. Reach out here and take your son."

Bulma narrowed her eyes and glared at Vegeta. She couldn't believe his stubbornness on a simple matter such as this. She wasn't going to back down. Not when she was so close. She paused momentarily then quickly turned the steering wheel toward the right, in an attempt to maneuver away from the sullen prince.

Vegeta was not as easily fooled as he disappeared and materialized in front of the helicopter once again.

"I can do this all day, woman. You're the one who has somewhere to go so keep playing this game if you want."

"Dammit Vegeta."

Bulma fumed as she tried to steer the helicopter to the left but Vegeta appeared once again to block her way. The two continued to maneuver back and forth in a war that neither one was ready to lose. Floating aimlessly in the air, Bulma growled angrily.

"Stop it Vegeta. You're acting like a big baby over this."

"Hn. The only baby here is him, so come get him and go."

Trunks glanced back and forth between his parents. His face contorted as he slowly began to cough. Vegeta raised his eyebrow as he turned his son toward him and looked him over. He hadn't quite gotten used to the many emotions of his child. It confused him.

"Now what's your problem?" he questioned Trunks. "I'm not going to put up with your shit either, got it?"

Trunks responded the only way he could: by releasing a small amount of vomit on his father's shirt. Looking up at Vegeta, the young Saiyan's lips began to quiver as tears started to form against his eyelids.

Holding his son away from his body, Vegeta had a look of horror across his face as he glanced down at his shirt. He was speechless. For the second time in one day his son had desecrated his clothes.

Watching the scene unfold, Bulma smiled and waved goodbye to her husband and son.

"I love you both and I will see you in a week. Oh, and Vegeta, laundry will be dropped off later this afternoon so don't forget to answer the door, okay?"

Blowing her son a kiss, Bulma closed the window to her helicopter and took off as fast as she could to give herself some space between herself and the mess her son had left behind.

Vegeta was oblivious to Bulma's departure as his eyes were fixated on his shirt. He watched as the vomit began to soak against the material, touching his chest and dripping down towards his waist. The sound of his son crying brought him out of his trance. Looking around he cursed loudly, finally noticing he was alone with Trunks, something he tried so hard to avoid.

"I swear I will kill that damn woman when she gets back."

He glared at Trunks who continued to cry in his arms. Vegeta sighed. So far the day was not going his way. There was no denying it. He was in hell and there would be no way out, at least for the next few days.

He watched Trunks as the infant threw his head back and cried harder than before. Vegeta cringed, remembering why he always felt children were nothing more than burdens.

He frowned. Six and a half more days to go...


	2. Little Helper

**AN: I want to thank everyone for the wonderful reviews. I'm surprised so many people enjoyed this story thus far. I hope everyone enjoys this and the chapters to come. I appreciate each and every one of your comments.**

* * *

><p>Vegeta stomped into the house with his face contorted in a twisted, angry expression. He cringed as the feeling of moisture from his son's expelled vomit continued to press against his skin. His dark eyes darted downward at the bawling baby kicking and screaming beneath his right arm. It took every ounce of strength in his body to not drop the boy to silence his cries. Vegeta could feel his head starting to pound with each echo that bounced off the wall from his young spawn. If he didn't know any better, he would have assumed his cognizance was seconds from exploding.<p>

"MOMMY!" Trunks bellowed even louder as he clenched his tiny hands into fists. His legs kicked rapidly as he squeezed every ounce of tears from the bottom of his eyelids.

Vegeta growled as he walked into the living room. The crying was obviously getting on his nerves. He did his best, however to maintain his composure, although it was proving to be very difficult. Noticing the area in the far right corner of the room surrounded by various toys and stuffed animals, Vegeta quickly deposited his son there, and glared at the teary eyed boy.

"Listen here, boy. Your mother left and I'm not going to put up with your sniffling tears. You are a Saiyan and dammit, you are going to act like one, do I make myself clear?"

Trunks sniffed and looked up at his father, his lower lip quivering slowly. He did his best to hold back his tears but his will was not as strong as his father would have liked. He couldn't control the small drops of water as they continued to flow against his chubby cheeks.

"I said stop crying," Vegeta spoke more forcefully.

Trunks nodded obediently, taking his left hand and rubbing the back of it against his eyes. His body sulked as his light blue eyes scanned the wall of toys that surrounded him.

Seeing that his son's tantrum had abruptly come to an end, Vegeta took the opportunity to take his leave and attend to other important matters. Quickly turning on the heels of his feet, the agitated prince sauntered up the stairs toward the bedroom he shared with his wife. He immediately discarded the stained shirt on the floor, continuing toward the bathroom without stopping to see where the clothing landed. He figured, if it left a stain anywhere else it was the fault of his spouse and as such she could take care of it when she returned. The bathroom door slammed behind him as he began to cleanse himself for the second time in one day.

Downstairs, Trunks brought himself on his two feet and walked toward the front door. He looked up at the large entrance with the same sullen expression on his face. He waited patiently for the door to swing open and the sight of blue hair to reach his retinas but after a few minutes he realized his wish was not going to come true.

The young boy sighed as he glanced back at his array of toys, displeased with the idea of being surrounded by the piles of metal and cotton. His head turned toward the stairs, his ears picking up the sound of water rushing from a room above. Glancing at his toys once more, as if to ponder the right choice to make, Trunks decided to follow his sense of hearing against his sense of sight.

His small hands reached for the small rails attached to the brass banister while his legs climbed each step one at a time. He took his time, in no rush to reach the final step. He was used to being carried up and down the stairs but this was his moment to do it on his own. Stepping onto the last step, he glanced back down the path he completed and smiled. He was proud of his accomplishment.

Listening for the sound of water once again, Trunks shakily stumbled down the hall as quickly as his legs would take him. He stood before his parents' bedroom door and pressed his ear against the frame. He waited to hear a familiar voice, but nothing came to him except the familiar sound that brought him up the stairs in the first place. He pressed his palms against the door and pushed with as much might as he could muster.

The door swung open to his joy, allowing him access inside. He looked around but saw nothing but an empty room. Walking inside, he peered up at the large king size bed in the middle of the room. He placed his hands against the fabric covering the massive mattress and attempted to pull himself up to see what was on top. Pressing the tip of his feet against the bottom of the mattress, he pulled upward but lost his grip, falling back on the floor in a sitting position.

Deterred temporarily, Trunks rose to his feet and walked toward the foot of the bed, looking for another way to climb to the top. Glancing down, he took sight of his father's soiled shirt. Puzzled, he picked the shirt up and glanced at the door on the right side of the room as it opened up and a bellow of steam flowed outward.

With a smirk on his face, Vegeta tightened the towel around his waist and ran his fingers over his moist wet hair. The feeling of contempt fell apart now that he was cleansed completely. His emergence from the bathroom halted as he took in vision of his son. He frowned as he noticed his stained shirt clenched in the little child's hands. Without hesitation, he snatched the fabric away and tossed it back on the floor.

"Leave it alone. It's your fault it's laying on the floor in the first place." Vegeta walked past his son and pulled open a drawer to retrieve another set of clothes for the day. "Didn't I leave you downstairs with your toys?"

Trunks shook his head and picked up the lone shirt Vegeta discarded for the second time. He walked behind his father and raised his small arm in the air, dangling the shirt for his father to retrieve.

"Here, daddy."

Glancing at his son's reflection in the mirror, Vegeta pinched the bridge of his nose in agitation at he stared at his shirt hanging from his son's hand. Slipping on a white t-shirt and black spandex shorts, he turned toward Trunks and folded his arms against his chest.

"You're starting to get on my nerves, boy. Leave it on the floor for your mother to pick up when she gets back. That's what she gets for leaving you with me in the first place."

"Here, daddy," Trunks repeated as he extended his arm further so his father could take hold of his shirt. "Here."

Vegeta growled as he snatched the shirt from his son and tossed it on the bed, watching as it landed on the middle of the comforter. He loomed over the small child who looked up at him with a smile on his face. Vegeta saw nothing to smile about, and was growing more and more irritated the longer he gazed at his son.

"Go find something to do. Find a toy to play with, okay? Just leave me alone for the rest of the week."

Trunks stepped aside and watched his father walk toward the bed and collapse on the right side. He glanced upward, leaning his head from side to side to get a better look. His view obstructed, Trunks slowly ran around the bed and stood on the opposite side. Pulling at the bed sheet he attempted to pull his small body upward. He grunted through his struggles as he continued to drag his body upward to the top of the bed. Reaching the top, he pressed his palms against the firm mattress and stared at the shirt lying in the center of the bed.

He crawled toward it and took the loose fabric into his hands once again. He stared at it, as if mesmerized by its mere presence. He couldn't understand his attachment to it but he felt the need to deliver it to his father for one reason or another.

Vegeta's back was turned away from his son as he tried to take a nap, which he desperately needed after his morning from hell. Turning on the opposite side, he opened his eyes and frowned as blue eyes were the first thing he saw. Opening his eyes completely, he pulled his head back as his son leaned in close, his breath hitting against Vegeta's face as he slowly began to crawl onto his father.

"Dammit, boy!" Vegeta shouted as he sat up startling Trunks who rolled backwards off his father, landing at the edge of the bed on his back.

Vegeta's chest heaved up and down heavily as his dark eyes bore down on his son who twisted his small body on his side then pulled himself upright. He smiled at Vegeta and held up the shirt he waited to have taken from him.

Rubbing the palm of his left hand against his face, Vegeta mumbled beneath his breath as he snatched the shirt from his son and picked the boy up with one arm. Climbing off the bed, he stomped down the hall to the child's room and deposited the boy in his crib.

"I'm done playing games with you. Now, stay in there until it's time to eat. Go to sleep or don't. I really don't give a damn what you do just leave me the hell alone, okay?"

Frustrated, Vegeta quickly turned away, dropping the shirt in his hand at the doorway as he exited his son's room. He was growing more and more agitated at everything that had gone wrong in the last few hours. Having been left with a loud child by his wife, he contemplated a person to dump his son with for the remainder of the week.

The immediate thought faded at the sound of the doorbell ringing downstairs, just what he needed, another distraction. He walked down the stairs one at a time, less than enthused to find out who was waiting on the other side of the door. He stood at the bottom step and paused as the doorbell continued to ring.

"Just what I fucking need…"

Walking toward the door, Vegeta took the door handle in his hand and pulled his hand back, nearly taking the door of its hinges. His dark eyes peered into the face of Yamcha who stood before the prince with a large smile on his face.

"Hey Vegeta, is Bulma home? I'm here to pick up Trunks," Yamcha spoke cheerfully.

Vegeta glared at the man standing before him, declaring him an utter buffoon in the back of his mind.

"You're not taking the boy anywhere."

Yamcha appeared puzzled as he stared at Vegeta. He placed his right hand behind his head and grabbed his neck.

"Bulma called me this morning and told me that she had no one to watch him. I don't mind watching him. I don't have any plans this week anyway besides participating in a game or two."

"Well, idiot, that sounds like you have plans, doesn't it? I'm going to watch the boy this week so your presence is not needed. Now leave," Vegeta stated forcefully. He was not in the mood for pleasantries.

"You?" Yamcha questioned surprisingly. "You're watching Trunks for a whole week? Alone?"

"Is that a problem?" Vegeta fired back, getting more and more disconcerted.

"It's just that…do you even know how to take care of a baby? By yourself, I mean?"

"Do you?"

Yamcha was pressed to find an answer to Vegeta's sudden question. He didn't know any more about taking care of someone Trunks' age any more than the sullen man standing before him did. Though, he did have one advantage over Vegeta that he knew he could use to win over the subtle argument.

"Well, I looked after Goku when he was a child so I know a little about raising a kid in some form."

Vegeta studied Yamcha's face, waiting for the ill-gotten man to laugh, proving that his statement was nothing more than a simple joke. Seeing the seriousness develop within Yamcha's eyes, Vegeta threw his head back and laughed outwardly.

"If that is supposed to be your reason to watch my son, then you really aren't going to take him now. Now I see why Kakarot is such a fucking circus clown," he pointed a single finger in Yamcha's direction. "You brought him up to be just like you."

Yamcha frowned as Vegeta continued to laugh at his expense. He stiffened his back and brought his arms against his chest, attempting to hold onto the shred of dignity he had left.

"Last time I checked," he began. "Bulma was there _raising_ him as well so I guess _we_ brought him up to be like us. What does that say about her?"

Vegeta's laughter subsided as he absorbed Yamcha's words. His instincts overcame him before he could regain his composure. His right arm extended and his hand grabbed a handful of the red shirt Yamcha was wearing. He pulled his adversary close, preparing to send him flying back from where he came.

Yamcha held his ground, in spite of the opposing threat. Although he could feel his hands shaking at his side, he kept his composure as he and the Saiyan prince stood toe to toe, neither one backing away from the other.

Upstairs, Trunks continued to try without much success to escape his prison. He tried to lift himself up but failed, falling backwards in a sitting position. He even tried to strain his way to freedom like he did earlier in the day but found it useless as well, as he had nothing left in him to help garner his release. Reaching for his pacifier, the toddler placed it inside his mouth and tugged at the ends of his purple hair, puzzled over a way to free himself from his crib.

Bracing his hands on the cushioned floor, he steadied himself on his two feet and reached walked over to a pile of stuffed animals in the corner of his crib. Extending his arms, Trunks placed his small palms on the edge of the crib and pulled upward, using the stuffed animals and the bars as stepping stones to keep himself from falling. Pulling as hard as he could, Trunks hoisted his small frame to the top of the crib. Having little time to react, he rolled off the edge and landed on his behind with a smile on his face.

Amazed at his own feat, Trunks smiled and clapped; enthused he was now on the outside. Using the bars, Trunks stood up and walked toward the door, picking up his father's shirt on the way. He walked down the hall with pep in his step, eager to reach his father.

Trunks stood at the top of the steps, peering down at his father as he stood at the door with Yamcha, the two men glaring at one another. Holding up his shirt, Trunks called out to Vegeta but the sound was muffled by the pacifier in his mouth. He pushed the item usually used to silence him out of his mouth with his tongue and opened his mouth as wide as he could.

"Daddy!"

Trunks lowered the shirt in his hand and took a step forward as both Vegeta and Yamcha turned and focused on the newest addition to join them near the front of the house. The toddler smiled as he reached out for Vegeta, unbeknownst to him that his small foot was stepping on the edge of the shirt in his hand.

Vegeta's reaction stalled as he could only watch in horror as gravity took effect. There was little he could do in that moment as he witnessed his only son come tumbling down the stairs.


	3. Realization

Yamcha and Vegeta froze as they watched Trunks finally come to a stop near the fifth or sixth step down from the top. Vegeta, unlike Yamcha, looked sincerely at his son, cursing himself for allowing the distraction behind him in his house. Knowing that his son could withstand a certain level of physicality couldn't erase the fear that encased his body. He had no explanations for it, but the feeling of raw emotion began tugging at him, as much as he tried to release the hold it had on him. Mentally he told himself his son was fine, but he couldn't deny the fall had been a nasty one, regardless of his son's lineage.

"Wait for it. Wait for it..." Yamcha chanted as he kept his focus on the bruised infant lying stomach down on the stairs.

As if on cue, Trunks mouth opened up and from it came a high pitch scream that could possibly unearth the dead. His lungs were getting a workout as the young boy hollered as loudly as he could. His face was beet red with a line of tears traveling from his eyelids down to the crook of his neck. He was visibly shaken after having taken a tremendous fall.

Vegeta glanced at Yamcha, and mumbled, "Dumbass", before walking toward his son. He couldn't comprehend how someone so stupid could have ever been involved with his wife. Now he was starting to realize why Yamcha ended up on the outside looking in at his ex-girlfriend having another man's child. For saying stupid shit like that.

Approaching his son as he lay on the steps, he supported the child beneath his armpits and raised him up to eye level. He wasn't sure what he was looking for exactly, but instinctively he felt he had to check and make sure his son was physically alright. He could deal with the emotional and mental aspect later.

Vegeta continued to mentally curse himself for standing idly by and watching his son trip and stumble down the stairs. His only consolation was that the woman that gave him grief about their son was nowhere in sight. He was sure that if she had been, he would be picking up two bodies off the floor. One the result of an accident. The other the result of fainting. Feeling a set of eyes on him, Vegeta glanced through the corner of his eye to see Yamcha still standing in the doorway, watching the scene unfold.

"Why the fuck are you just standing there looking like an idiot?" he questioned. He was growing irritated with Yamaha's presence and waited with baited breath for the former love of his wife to vacate the premises.

"I'm waiting for you to go get him some ice or something. He took a nasty fall down those stairs. Maybe we should have someone take a look at him and make sure he's okay."

"For what? The only thing hurt on him is his pride. He's ashamed he busted his ass, that's all. He'll live."

"I don't know, I think you better call a doctor and make sure," Yamcha prodded as he watched the tears spring free from Trunks eyes. "I better call Bulma," Yamcha continued while taking a few steps inside the house. "Let her know what happened."

Vegeta could feel the temple on the side of his head begin to throb. Between Trunks screaming and Yamcha's stupidity he felt like he was going to explode.

"I can take care of my own child without you or that damn woman interfering. He's fine so get out of this house and don't you dare mention this to Bulma," Vegeta spoke sternly.

The last thing he wanted was his wife receiving a phone call describing the incident in detail. He could already imagine her face tightening and her voice growing louder as she stood over him, berating him about his lapsed reaction. To add insult to injury, he couldn't have Yamcha telling her something that should come from him. That in itself would cause her to never give him a moment's peace; always wondering what else he hadn't told her. No, he had to make sure the mishap stayed between those who witnessed it.

"She should know what happened here, Vegeta. You can't stop me from telling her."

Shifting his son into his left arm, Vegeta pointed a damning finger at Yamcha.

"The hell I can't. I will blast your ass into oblivion if you open your mouth." Yamcha scoffed, calling out Vegeta's threat. Opening the hand outwardly, Vegeta smirked as a white glow began to form against his palm. "Go ahead, call my bluff."

Yamcha's mouth began to dry as he eyed the glow that could become his demise. He couldn't believe for a second that Vegeta would kill someone in front of his own child. No one was that cruel...then again, this was Vegeta he was talking about. Cutting his losses, Yamcha threw his hands in the air and quickly turned away, heading out the door without uttering another word.

Approaching the entrance, Vegeta grabbed the door and slammed it shut, making sure to turn the lock in case Yamcha decided to return. He was slightly disappointed. He was hoping to rid the world of a failure and weakling all rolled into one. There was always tomorrow, he mused.

With Yamcha gone, Vegeta could finally pay attention to his surroundings. Realization began to set in that the room he was standing in was now silent. No screaming or hollering. Just pure unadulterated stillness. His dark eyes fell upon his son who had his small head resting against his father's shoulder.

Vegeta looked at him, puzzled by his peculiar Jekyll and Hyde routine. From pulsating screams to silence in a matter of minutes made the prince wonder if it was all an act to begin with. Staring at the white shirt that fell from his son's hand and the pacifier that slipped from his lips, Vegeta decided to test his theory.

He slowly bent forward, releasing Trunks from his arms and setting the boy on the floor in front of his feet. Their eyes never parted from one another. Vegeta couldn't help but try to read behind the blue pupils that looked up at him. If he didn't know any better, he would have guessed his son was wondering why he was released from his father's grip. Continuing with his assessment, Vegeta walked away from Trunks, leaving the bewildered child behind as he walked toward the stairs to retrieve the discarded items.

Trunks turned around and watched helplessly as his father walked away. He couldn't process why he was now alone. He was in comfort and now he was watching his father depart without giving him a second glance. His hand slowly closed into fists as his chest began to heave up and down. A wall of emotions overwhelmed him as his tears returned and with it a shrill cry of desperation to be returned to his father's arms.

Vegeta cringed as he heard the child's cries as he retrieved the shirt and pacifier. His mind became flooded with the words his wife spoke to him before she left. Two words in particular stood out through all her intense rambling: Mama's boy. Was that what his son was? A sniffling little cry baby who depended on people to smother him with affection?

Turning around, Vegeta's eyebrows met at the center of his forehead as he watched his son cry uncontrollably. That high pitched sound, he knew he had heard it somewhere before. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it but it was the same pitch, tone and frequency of a sound he heard years ago. His mouth dropped open as he realized who his son was beginning to remind him of, his rival's eldest son, Gohan.

Vegeta could feel his body become warm as anger began to radiate through the pores on his skin. It was all coming back to him now, hearing that high pitch squeal through the communication radar that Raditz wore so many years ago. Such a sound warranted a person's immediate execution and if he had arrived on earth during that specific moment, he would have dispatched Gohan himself.

He seethed as he continued to watch his son act like the spoiled brat he was becoming. Ultimately the blame fell on three shoulders, Bulma's and her soft-hearted parents. Vegeta mentally kicked himself for not realizing what his son was turning into sooner. All the times they carried him around, kissed his bruises and tended to his every need made him one of them. The more he looked at his son the less he saw the Saiyan heritage that he knew flowed through his veins.

He had once questioned his own self-worth as a Saiyan after only a month of residing on Earth, surrounded by humans showing their weakness through vile things such as emotions. Before he bedded his future wife he could remember her showing weakness, crying over menial things which he turned his nose up to. He didn't give a damn how many tears she shed but somewhere along the line he caught her disease, the disease that made him actually...care for someone other than himself.

The disease was strong and it brought him and her together in a passionate romp between the sheets. Its power was so strong it brought about his only child being conceived. He could feel the weakness trying to overcome him, turning him into...one of them. It was why he fled to the outer skirts of the universe, to cleanse himself of the disease and free himself once and for all.

Looking at Trunks, Vegeta had his mind made up. He had one week and one week only to free his only child from the human bonds there were starting to suffocate the toddler, thus bringing down the only part of him that mattered the most, his Saiyan side.

Trunks' tears slowly began to dry against his moist cheeks as he watched his father approach him. He was happy and illustrated that feeling by showing the pink gums in his mouth. He smiled and raised his arms over his head, waiting to be placed back in the comfort of his father's arms. His smile brightened as Vegeta placed his hands under the toddler's arms and hoisted him onto his feet. Trunks thrust his body upward; however, he found himself not going very far. His smile dissipated as he watched his father stand over him after only helping him to his feet.

"You are a Saiyan, boy, and you will act like it. No one will carry you around and treat you like a sniveling human. You have Saiyan blood coursing through your veins and dammit, you will understand that by the time this week is over."

Trunks cocked his head to the side and smiled. He stood on his tip toes, reaching upward for his father to embrace him and carry him in his arms. His balance shifted and he fell forward, gasping onto Vegeta's leg to keep himself on his feet.

"Get it through that lavender head of yours. I am not picking you up. You were born with two legs and you're going to use them."

Trunks raised his arm in the air and jumped. "Up!" He quickly fell back down, shifting uncontrollably to maintain his balance.

Vegeta pressed his palm against his face and slid away the disappointment in watching his son act like a buffoon, jumping up and down despite being told he would not be carried any longer. Looking at his opposite hand he frowned as he saw one source responsible for his son's infantile behavior.

He held the white pacifier up and stared at it under the house lights. The little contraption was powerful but Vegeta wondered how much powerful exactly. Glancing down he received his answer.

Trunks moved closer to his father and jumped again, each time falling short and struggling to regain his balance. He positioned himself in front of his father, using the elder Saiyan's leg and leverage to help get his feet off the ground.

"Binky! My binky!" he cried in protest.

Vegeta looked at the pacifier in complete disgust. "Your binky my as-"

The sound of the doorbell startled Trunks and stopped Vegeta from finishing his train of thought, but it could not erase his stance on the issue entirely. The day he allowed his son to suck on one of those contraptions again would be the same day he admitted to his wife he enjoyed her cooking. Seeing no chance he'd ever admit anything to Bulma, Vegeta concluded his son's days of walking around with a "Binky" in his mouth were long gone.

Stepping back, Vegeta watched as Trunks stumbled but remained on his feet. Turning the locks, Vegeta opened the door and took a step to the right as large containers were placed inside his home, one after the other.

He watched as six different colored containers were placed in the foyer by six different gentlemen. He eyed a cheerful looking man as he walked over to him with a clipboard in hand.

"How are you doing? We're from West City Laundry Express. We have six containers of freshly washed, dried, pressed and folded laundry for a Mrs. Bulma Briefs. Are you Mr. Briefs?" the gentleman inquired.

"No, now get out," Vegeta replied sternly.

The man appeared rattled by the outburst but regained his composure and kept smiling. "That's cool. If I could just get your signature I will be on my way."

"Signature for what?" It was Vegeta's turn to start asking questions.

"To confirm the clothes were delivered by West City Laundry Express service men," the gentleman responded as he held the clipboard in front of Vegeta's face.

"I see you. I see the clothes. Now get out."

"Okay, I'm really not feeling the vibe you're putting down, but I still need your signature by the big X," the delivery man continued to coax.

Snatching the clipboard away, Vegeta removed the pen hanging loosely from the board by a thick white string and wrote an 'X' on the line he was requested to sign on.

"Uh, you were supposed to write your name," the delivery guy pointed out as he peered at the clipboard. "You do have a name, right?"

Vegeta's frustration level could no longer remain contained. He forcefully shoved the clipboard against the chest of the arrogant delivery man, causing the latter to crash to the floor, sprawled out on his back. Shock registered clearly across the man's face.

"Do you have a name, smart ass?" Not waiting for a response, Vegeta hoisted the man off the floor and eyed the name badge clipped on the right side of the white pressed shirt he was wearing with the company's insignia beneath it. "Greg, well Greg, if you value what's left of your pride and your life you will take those guys and get the fuck out of my house. Now-" Vegeta released the man. "Do I need to repeat myself?"

The six gentlemen who accompanied Greg, who was now quivering in fear, did not need to be told twice. They immediate rushed out the front door and climbed into the back of a white van with the company logo painted on the side. Greg spun around, looking for the clipboard that slid away from him during the scuffle. He smiled when he saw it lying beneath a small table near the door. As quick as he could he retrieved the clipboard and rose to his feet.

"Well...thank you for your business."

Vegeta's shoulders tensed up at Greg's attempt to remain professional. Gone was the time for manners, he just wanted his house free from unwanted pests.

Greg had no intentions of extending his stay on the compound. He had everything he needed and had no reason to linger any further. His attention shifted unintentionally as Trunks approached him with the white shirt in his hand, having retrieved it during the scuffle between his father and the delivery boy.

"Hey little guy, what you got there?" Greg pondered. His face faltered as Trunks tossed the shirt, the same white shirt he had vomited on earlier, into the face of the unsuspecting man. "W-What the hell is that smell!"

Trunks laughed as he watched Greg attempt to remove the sticky mesh of material from his face. The surprised man pulled the shirt from his face, gasping for air in the process. Remnants of the undigested food the baby prince had dispelled earlier were stuck on his face. He was disgusted, no, he was past being disgusted. The calm demeanor he showed while in Vegeta's presence started to fade and in its place a dark cloud was beginning to form over his head. He had a gleam in his eyes that was anything but friendly.

Knowing the murderous look surrounding the once composed deliverer, Vegeta pounced. He grabbed the front of Greg's work short and hastily tossed him out the door, watching as the man skidded against the graveled walkway, coming to a stop just in front of the delivery van.

"I expect that shirt cleaned immediately."

The prince smirked and slammed the door shut. He glanced over his left shoulder to see his son laughing, as if everything was one big joke. He threw his head back slightly and withdrew the smirk from his face. Playtime was over.

"That's enough, Trunks. We're taking a nap right now." Vegeta was hoping to do without a struggle from his son on the mention of turning in for the afternoon. His body was craving a nap and the matter was not up for discussion.

Trunks had no intention of arguing as his mouth opened and a small yawn emerged. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and looked around, searching for his binky, which he took to bed with him whenever sleep was mentioned. Seeing it a few inches away, he smiled and made a break for it. He reached for the white plastic silencer just as his father phased in front of him, cutting off the reunion with his idolized toy.

"Don't even try it. I told you about that, didn't I? Get up those stairs and go to your room."

Trunks looked on the brink of tears but willed them back from materializing in front of his father. He couldn't understand why he was being forbidden from using the toy his mother purchased for him. He took a longer look at Vegeta then turned toward the stairs. His hands fisted around the rails attached to the banister. He used his upper body strength to lift himself up the stairs that showed him no mercy earlier on.

Vegeta watched silently as his son reached the final step and turned toward him. The boy smiled and clapped, proud of his accomplishment. Vegeta grunted. He wasn't about to congratulate his son for something so futile. As Trunks disappeared down the hall, the prince smiled proudly, remembering his son's antics with the delivery man.

"There may be hope for him yet."

Vegeta stretched and rolled onto his right side, glaring aimlessly at the red neon clock that flashed the present time. Rubbing his thumb and index finger against the corner of his eyes, he looked once again at the clock. It was a quarter to eight in the evening, the sun having long set nearly three hours prior. Precious time was lost to his deciding to rest but he couldn't complain; it was needed after the day from hell. He almost dreaded climbing out of the bed, wary about having to deal with more bullshit, but he digressed. Besides, he now had a purpose this week without his wife and he wanted to get started on it as soon as possible.

Climbing out of bed, he walked with his only agenda in mind down to his son's room. He deposited Trunks in his crib without a second thought before retiring to his own bed. He felt uncomfortable at first lying there knowing he would never feel his wife crawl in beside him but he dealt with it. Now that he was awake his wife was the last thing on his mind, that was, until he entered his son's room...

Trunks was gone but that wasn't what caused the prince to stop dead in his tracks in the doorway. It had been a long time since he visited his son's room. In actuality, not counting the two times he visited his son's room today, he could only count on one hand the times he stepped foot inside his child's room. He never paid much attention to it but now as he surveyed the area, he wished he would have given it more of a once over.

He surmised that the room was the main source of the disease that had tried to plague him years ago. His son was soft and now he had adequate proof as to the reason why. There were stuffed animals and toys strewn about the room, from the four corners, to shelves on the wall, even in the crib where his son slept. There wasn't a bare spot not riddled with trinkets and plush cotton. Stepping further inside, Vegeta cringed at the sight of an article of clothing loosely hanging from one of his son's dresser drawers.

He took the fabric into his left hand and ripped it from its confinement, staring at it in disbelief. It was a one-piece footed pajamas designed to mimic the style of a small bear cub. It had a hood attached that had two ears perched on both sides and a small stubby tail that sat near the bottom to drive the concept home.

"A fucking bear suit?" Vegeta questioned, enraged. To him, it was preposterous.

His son was no bear: an ape, yes, but not a bear. The fact that he was forced to wear such a ridiculous garment made the prince's blood begin to boil. He dropped the pajamas and tore the drawer it came from out of its proper place and gazed at the clothes sprawled at his feet.

There was a different costume for what he assumed was for his son's bedtime attire. From animals to professions, there was even a little set designed to replicate a white lab coat, possibly his father in law's creation. Vegeta pulled more and more clothes out of his son's drawers. He had to get a reality check on his son and his predicament. Every outfit had a character stitched to it much to Vegeta's joy.

"It's like a fucking zoo in here and my son's the damn ring leader."

He decided he had seen enough. Scrapping through the clothes he retrieved two items that only seemed fitting, one was a plain blue footed pajamas with no hood or other design and the other was a plain green shirt, also with no design whatsoever. Grabbing a small pair of plain black pants, white socks and miniature green boots, Vegeta turned and exited the room. Shutting the door, he vowed that was the last time his son would ever sleep in there.

The prince sauntered down the hall, focusing on his son's petite ki signature. It was faint but he could still find his location without much effort on his part. All he needed was concentration. Walking by the bathroom, he tossed the items in his arms on the floor and continued to follow his son's movement. He walked down the front staircase, his eyes falling on the small white pacifier he forbade his son from using.

Focusing on his son's location, he knew he had to be down there and had to have walked by his precious toy. Vegeta pondered one of two things. Either his son didn't see the item, or he did, but knew he couldn't touch it. Going with the latter, Vegeta extended his palm over the pacifier and fired a single shot, leaving the charred remains etched into the floor.

Satisfied, Vegeta continued on toward the kitchen, where his son's ki was registering from. Stepping inside he paused at the poor sight in front of him. There was his son trying his damndest to pull open the refrigerator door. That sight, more than any other, confirmed his beliefs- his son was weak.

"What are you doing?" He walked further into the kitchen.

Trunks smiled as he released the edge of the fridge and ran toward his father. He couldn't remember being happy to see someone in his short lived life. He held onto his father's leg and pointed at the inanimate object.

"Hungry!"

Vegeta wondered how his son continued to free himself from his crib time and time again. It seemed pointless to him to keep him caged if he kept escaping. The wheels began to spin in his mind over his son's new bedding arrangements. The sound of his stomach rumbling stopped his endless contemplating. He glanced at his son who looked at him with pleading eyes. Vegeta nodded as the two spoke silently to one another, hunger was destroying them both, eating at them from the inside out.

Side stepping his son, Vegeta opened the refrigerator and peered inside. He was greeted with labeled white containers with red tops stacked as far as his eyes could see. He frowned in disgust as he glanced at Trunks who pushed his head into the fridge to see what was inside.

"You see what type of mother you have?" Vegeta looked down at his son who instinctively returned his father's stare. "She didn't leave you anything to eat."

Trunks blinked, before a look of hurt rushed over his face. He raised his right arm and pointed at the rows of containers.

"Food."

"That's just for me. There isn't enough for both of us."

Although the prince was teasing his heir, much to his enjoyment, he was serious in the fact that Bulma had not left enough food to cover the entire week.

"That woman must have been thinking about herself when she stocked this fridge. No saiyan could survive with these table scraps."

Reaching inside, Vegeta bundled ten containers in his arm and carried them to the counter. Trunks quickly slammed the refrigerator door closed and hurried after his father and the food he hoped he could get a piece of.

Opening each container, Vegeta looked over the contents, frowning over some and looking pleased with others. He decided on three containers each filled to the brim with chicken, rice and vegetables, respectively.

"Microwave meals..." Vegeta cringed as he threw each container in the microwave, shoving them in until they fit. He had no patience to heat them one at a time. It had been a long time since he had to heat up his own food, even on the nights where he stayed out late in the gravity chamber. Bulma was always there with a hot meal waiting for him. As the food began to reheat, Vegeta mused. He didn't think he would miss his woman as much as he was starting to.

The sound of the phone ringing brought the wayward Saiyan back to reality. He watched as Trunks shuffled toward the phone hanging on the kitchen wall. Walking over, he gently slid his son to the side.

"It's not for you." He was sure it wasn't for him either since no one ever bothered to call him. As the only adult in the house, however, someone had to stop the infernal ringing. "Who is it?"

"Who is it? That's not a nice way to answer the phone, Vegeta."

The Saiyan rolled his eyes as he recognized the nagging voice immediately.

"The harpy of Kakarot, what is it?"

"I'm calling to check on you and Trunks, Bulma asked me to."

Vegeta turned toward the microwave as it signaled the food was done. "We're fine."

The call was abruptly ended as Vegeta placed the phone back on the receiver and walked toward the microwave, retrieving the food for his son and his own consumption. He transferred the food to a large plate for him, a small bowl for his son and gathered some utensils all in one trip. He glanced down as Trunks followed him toward the kitchen table.

"Food! Foooood!" Trunks cried out as he stood beside his highchair, waiting to be picked up and placed inside.

Vegeta eyed the chair, then his son. He watched with baited breath for the infant to climb into his seat, but knew he was wasting his time. Going against his original warning, he picked Trunks up and placed him in his chair.

"Don't get any ideas," he started as he walked around the table to his seat. "I just picked you up. I still will not carry you around."

Trunks didn't seem to hear his father as he immediately began eating, happy by all means judging by the smile on his face. The two sat in silence and ate, not even giving the other a second thought. The phone ringing once again cut clear through the air, much to the older Saiyan's delight.

He eyed his son who was finished with his meal. Standing, he lifted his son up and set him down on the floor, then went over to retrieve the phone.

"What!" he spoke angrily.

"Again with the attitude. Listen, I didn't want to call you but Bulma insisted I do," Chi-Chi spoke calmly, much to her own surprise.

"Why?"

"Tomorrow Gohan and I are taking Goten to the park and she was wondering if you'd like to take Trunks as well?"

Vegeta sucked his teeth. The last thing he expected was an invitation to actually leave the house with his son in tow. He was prepared for a week of re-education, not playtime.

"The answer is no." He surmised that his response would end the conversation right then and there. He was wrong.

"Vegeta, Trunks cannot stay cooped up in the house all week. He needs fresh air and sunshine."

"We have a backyard and windows."

He could hear the wife of his rival groan in frustration, much to his delight. He wasn't giving in, no matter what she came up with.

"Then what about my son Goten?" Chi-Chi continued. "Trunks likes playing with him. They might grow up to be best friends."

Vegeta scoffed at the idea. "Not that it's any of your concern, but the boy and I have plans."

"Really?" He could hear the interest come through in Chi-Chi's voice. "Like what? I hope its potty training. Bulma told me he's still having accidents."

Vegeta mentally cursed his wife for running to others and spilling his family's business. He wondered what else she couldn't keep her mouth shut about.

"My son is not having "accidents". He is perfectly capable of using that little contraption in the bathroom next to the toilet."

"That's not what I heard."

Vegeta was growing annoyed. He walked out of the kitchen with the phone hanging loosely in his hand. His fingers wrapped tightly around the receiver as he began looking around for Trunks. If he could find him then he'd have an excuse to end the call, although he wasn't sure why he didn't just hang up on the loud woman and leave it at that.

"Vegeta? Are you there?" Huffing, Vegeta placed the phone back by his ear. "If you need help with Trunks' potty training, I can help. I've done it before so it won't be any problem."

"I don't like your husband which means I don't like you. What makes you think I would go as far as to request your help?"

He shook his head at the idea. It would be a cold day in hell before he ever asked for assistance, especially with matters that involved him and his family, no one else.

"Fine Vegeta, whatever you say."

"Damn right whatever I say," Vegeta chucked lightly to himself. The battle was finally over and he had come out on top.

Removing the phone from his ear, his nose flared up and his eyes watered at the sudden stench that engulfed his sensitive senses. He lowered his eyes and stared at his son as the toddler waddled over to his father, a look of shame on his face.

"I had an accident..."

Vegeta was at a loss for words. He was bothered by his son's lack of comprehension over what he really did; trying to suffocate his only father. He could never understand how someone so small could make a smell that bad. His hand clenched tightly over the receiver as he raised it to his ear. Hell was starting to freeze over.

"Kakarot's wife," He didn't wait to see if she was still on the other end. "We'll be there in the morning."


	4. The Challenge

**AN: A brief little note. First thank you to my beta reader for always making sure my chapters are up to par and thank you to all of you, my story readers and/or reviewers. I'm happy you are continuing to enjoy Vegeta's turmoil...I mean, you are enjoying this story. Second, if at any time you want to know where I am with this story then check my profile out. I've included a small section beneath each story I've written to inform you of its current status. Okay, enough about that. Enjoy the chapter.**

* * *

><p>The rays from the sun showed no mercy over the groggy prince as he fisted his white pillow and shoved it over his face, pressing down with force. To anyone who walked into his bedroom and witnessed such a scene they would become fearful, concerned with Vegeta's choice to suffocate himself beneath a mountain of plush cotton. Suicide was the last thing on the weary saiyan's mind as he rolled over onto his right side, trying to avoid his apparent wake up call.<p>

Getting anything close to eight hours of sleep was always a game in his eyes. Sometimes he willed himself into bed to rest his aching bones after a good workout in the gravity room, and sometimes his head wouldn't hit his pillow until the morning light peaked over the horizon. Last night, training was not part of his reason for missing precious hours of sleep, no, the reason stood smaller and smellier than that.

Vegeta was an elite warrior who relished the thought of an upcoming battle, but even he had to agree that he could have done without last night's melee involving him and his infant son. As his memories from mere hours ago resurfaced, a sound emanated from a small black box which flashed, in red neon lights, the current time, 8:45 a.m. He mentally cursed his woman for forgetting to disable the damn contraption before she vacated their house for her business venture. He concluded there was no way in hell he would wake up to that annoying sound for the rest of the week. It would have to be shut off. Sliding his right hand from beneath his make-shift shield, Vegeta fired a single blast at the device. The room hastily became silent after that...a little too silent.

Lifting the pillow an inch off his face, Vegeta listened to his surroundings. Unwillingly, Vegeta pulled the pillow from his face, sat upright and rubbed the corner of his eyes with his thumb and index finger in an attempt to remove any trace of his fatigue - or so he hoped. His bloodshot eyes remained visible as he used them to conduct a quick sweep of his bedroom. His concern was plausible, his son was gone.

"Son of a-" Vegeta grumbled as he grabbed a handful of the comforter beneath him and squeezed it in the palm of his hands. The sun had nearly surfaced in the sky and Vegeta could feel a headache starting to form.

The prince exhaled and gathered his wits pertaining to his predicament. His son had disappeared from the room and worst of all his bleary demeanor refused to fade away.

His lack of sleep was a consequence of trying to bathe and diaper his son, but not in that order. His distraction last night stemmed from his attempt to vacate the foul stench that was protruding from inside his son's pants. He had to rid the house of it...He presumed based on Trunks' behavior that the small boy enjoyed breathing in his own bowels and if that was the case he had no problem with that, so long his son was living in someone else's house at the time.

Knowing he couldn't exactly rid himself of his only child, though he did give that idea some serious thought, Vegeta attempted to clean the boy up.

Glancing down at his chest, Vegeta surveyed the damage a bottle of powder and wipes could do to a man's skin.

Refusing to destroy anymore of his shirts, Vegeta discarded it before heading to his son's room to retrieve products used for his personal hygiene. Grabbing what items he'd seen in action before, Vegeta ventured back to the living room, mentally preparing himself to go into the wilderness that manifested in his son's diaper. He ripped it off without a second thought and blasted it into a charred remnant on the floor below, a just demise in his eyes. He growled as the clump of brown particles stuck against his son's legs and bottom brought water to his eyes. Refusing to stare at the mess any longer, Vegeta reached for a clean diaper and prepared to place it on his son but paused. He tried to remember the tactics used by his wife when she went elbow deep into the mess their son created but he could not remember the accurate steps. Feeling time tick away, Vegeta grappled with his decision and grabbed the bottle of powder and a fistful of wipes to cleanse his son's lower region. His efforts were in vain, however, as Trunks had one more trick up his sleeve - well, not up his sleeve exactly.

The bottle of powder and wipes sprang free throughout the livingroom as Vegeta moved away from the spray of urine being expelled from the infant saiyan. His movements were swift but Vegeta was still covered in an array of baby powder and soggy wipes. He became enraged as Trunks looked up at him, laughing with a smile on his face.

Shaking away the recollection of the events from the prior night, Vegeta climbed out of his bed and sauntered down the hall, listening for the slightest sound to give away his son's position. He didn't have to travel far as the resonance from the television in the living room invaded his ears. Folding his arms across his dried soapy-powdered chest, Vegeta stood behind the couch staring at the television set.

Glancing down, a head full of lavender hair greeted the prince as he heard his son laughing happily while watching the t.v. Staring at the set, Vegeta's right eyebrow rose while he pondered what his son found so funny. He watched three little blue birds and one big nosed colorful bird all conversed around a bowl of colorful cereal. Trunks laughed again, although Vegeta still couldn't find one thing amusing about a bunch of talking animals.

"C'mon boys, just follow your nose," the character on the television spoke as it flew away with a bowl of cereal tucked beneath its wing.

Vegeta chuckled. "That's ironic, that's how I always find you," He glanced at his son. "By following my nose."

Trunks was oblivious to his father's comment. He turned to his father and stood up, bracing his hands against the back of the couch to steady himself.

"I want cereal," he demanded happily.

Vegeta huffed as he stared at his son without blinking once. "You see what you did to me?" He pointed to his chest. "We're taking a shower first."

Trunks squealed happily and sat down on the couch so he could descend easily. Landing on the floor, the over-zealous toddler ran as quickly as he could toward the steps, climbing them one at a time. Vegeta was amazed at his son's enthusiasm. He walked slowly behind him, watching as Trunks made it to the final step. Vegeta stopped on the top step and watched as Trunks ran into the bathroom for a brief moment then came back out; a sullen look replaced his momentary smile.

"Where's my toys?" he questioned.

Vegeta smirked as he approached his son. "You mean those toys you had around you when I threw you in the tub last night?"

Trunks' smile returned. His head nodded back and forth like a bobble head doll. Vegeta's smirk widened as he watched his son's expression change once again.

"I threw them out." He watched as the sad expression returned to Trunks face. "Yep, threw all that shit out. I will not have my son treating his bath time as play time. You get enough of that around your mother and her parents."

"I want my toys."

"And I want to beat Kakarot's face in. We both can't get what we want, now can we?"

Trunks scrunched his face together, most resembling his father, as he stared into Vegeta's eyes.

"I want my toys!"

"Boy," Vegeta began sternly. "I don't tolerate your mother's temper tantrums and I'm not going to deal with yours either. Now let's go. It's time I teach you how to clean yourself like a saiyan should."

Trunks held his ground as his face began to falter once again. This time, however, it was his eyes exhibiting his recent change in emotion. Water slowly appeared around the edge of his eyes as his chest began to jolt up and down.

"I. WANT. MY. TOYS!" he shouted.

Vegeta was taken aback by Trunks outburst, but only for a few seconds. He stood over his son, watching as the boy held his ground, his tears still threatening to be released. Vegeta was unsure how to properly deal with his son's antics but he wasn't going to give in, that was for damn sure.

"Let's go boy," He brushed past his son without giving him another look. "I won't say it again."

Trunks rubbed his eyes with the back of his left hand and followed after his father. Vegeta smirked as he led his son into his bedroom. He was proud to see that Trunks kept his tears from falling down his cheeks. He was taking the loss of his toys like a man; Vegeta surmised there was great hope for him now.

Trunks followed his father into the bathroom, watching as Vegeta cut the water to the shower on and stood aside as the room started to fill with steam.

"Okay, get in."

Trunks squinted as the steam covered him, slowly masking his view of his father. Panic was beginning to set in. Never before was he encased in a room where his vision was impaired. Instinctively, he began reaching for his father, moving toward the last place he saw him.

Vegeta watched in frustration as Trunks continuously searched for him, the look of panic melted to his face by the overwhelming power of evaporated water. Turning the round brass knob toward him, Vegeta waited for the water to cool down then turned toward his frightened son.

"Get in."

Trunks shook his head and inched toward the bathroom door, ready to make a run for it. Sensing his son's movements, Vegeta extended his arm and closed the door, sealing the two in together.

"The water is fine, boy, get in."

"It's hot."

"No it isn't. Get in or I'm going to throw you in."

Trunks whimpered helplessly but nonetheless walked toward the shower and peered inside. There were no toys or even a place to sit. He looked at his father with pleading eyes.

Vegeta reacted quickly, stripping Trunks from his pajamas and diaper. Removing his own spandex pants, he walked into the shower and waited for his timid son to follow. The hope he felt earlier was beginning to fade. Trunks stepped inside and looked up at the structure dispelling the water toward him. It was different from his usual bath time, the water was usually already there waiting for him but this was nothing like that. Hearing the door close, Trunks pressed his palm against the glass door. There was no escape.

Looking up at his father, Trunks watched as Vegeta grabbed a small white rag and a white bar of soap, running the two together to create a nice lather. Although his surrounding was vastly different from what he usually encountered, he did know what would happen next. Raising his arms above his head, he waited to feel the soapy rag against his skin… but it never came to be.

Roughly rubbing the rag against his chest to remove the remnants of the night before, Vegeta watched Trunks as he continued to hold his arms in the air.

"I'm not picking you up. Start washing yourself."

Trunks lowered his arms and looked around the shower then turned back toward his father. He was confused by the words he heard. Again, he put his arms in the air waiting for his father to cleanse him.

"Look," Vegeta held the rag and soap out for his son to see. "Take this and this, rub them together and wash yourself."

As Trunks stared at the items in his father's hand, he contemplated what he was being asked to do - he still didn't understand. Despite that, he wanted something in his hands, he didn't like being the only person not holding something in the air. Looking around the cramped elongated box, he smiled as he saw a round pink sponge hanging on a white hook by a small white cord. He started to reach for it, determined to get it in the palm of his hands.

Vegeta's face paled as he watched the efforts of his son. He failed to notice the pink abomination hanging on the wall. It wasn't as if he personally used it to cleanse himself and even when he and his wife did find time to shower together, there really wasn't any showering going on. Seeing his son's fingers touch the ends of the bath sponge, Vegeta sprang into action. He ripped the item from the wall, opened the door and tossed it out. He glanced at Trunks who looked pained that he lost his chance to hold the sponge in his hands.

"Here, take this," Vegeta handed Trunks the rag, watching him looked it over as it sat in his hands. A low growl emitted from beneath his breath. "Use it. Don't just stare at it."

Staring at the rag, Trunks pressed it against his chest, moving it from side to side. Seeing the residue of soap he was leaving on his skin made him smile. He looked up at his father then continued to rub the rag against his chest, causing more and more soapy white bubbles to form.

Satisfied with his son's menial progress, Vegeta opened the shower door and looked at the metal rack lying on the wall. It was empty.

"Shit!" he cursed aloud, remember the baskets of clean items that were dropped off the day before were still downstairs with all of the laundry inside, including the towels and washcloths.

Hearing laughter, he turned his head and watched as Trunks squealed with happiness while standing under the shower head emitting a substantial amount of water. Out of the corner of his eye he took notice of the pink bath sponge he discarded earlier. His teeth clenched together with force as he shut the shower door. It would be a cold day in hell before he used that thing to clean himself.

"Give me the rag so I can use it," he demanded as he extended his hand toward his son, awaiting the item to be placed against his palm.

Twisting his body, Trunks shook his head and pulled the rag close to his body, away from Vegeta's reach.

"It's mine."

"The hell it is. Give it here, boy. Now!"

Trunks shook his head, inching toward the far corner of the shower. "It's mine."

Vegeta's eyebrow twitched as he lowered his hand, giving up his pursuit of the washcloth. He grumbled while sliding the shower door open. Hell was beginning to freeze over. He stepped out and retrieved Bulma's pink bath sponge, returning to the shower quickly. Slamming the door shut, he glared at his son who remained in the corner, hiding the cloth between his body and the wall so his father could not retrieve it. Vegeta huffed as he rubbed the bar of soap against the sponge.

"If you tell anyone I used this, this thing, you won't see your next birthday, you hear me?"

Trunks smiled, albeit his life was just threatened, he still had the washcloth in his possession. Two pair continued to cleanse themselves in preparation for what they day had in store for them.

.

.

.

.

Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Vegeta pressed the edge of the mug against his lips and watched his son as the toddler sat happily at the table, in the clothes Vegeta picked out before labeling his room a hazard, in front of his breakfast. Upon checking the cabinets, Vegeta was able to locate the same box of colorful cereal that appeared on the television hours before. He reckoned his wife purchased it just for their son and only their son. He dismissed the surgery contents for himself with ease and settled upon a few slices of toast and charred bacon he was able to cook using his ki and his low level of patience. It was suitable but nowhere near the breakfast he felt a person like him deserved. He mentally reminded himself to find other means for breakfast as the week progressed.

The sound of the phone ringing caught Vegeta and Trunks' attention, each one sharing a glance with the other before Vegeta opted to retrieve the call. He snatched the phone from the receiver and pressed it against his ear.

"What do you want?"

"Vegeta, that's no way to answer the phone. What if it was someone important?"

Vegeta smiled at the sound of his wife's voice, though she would never know that. He leaned against the frame of the door beside the phone and chuckled.

"You probably told everyone you were going away so they know not to call."

Bulma huffed. She had done just that but there was no need him telling him. "How are you doing? It has only been one day."

"Really?" Vegeta replied snidely. "I didn't notice."

"Well how is my big man doing? Is he missing his mommy?"

"Terribly. He can't wait for you to come home so he can pound you through the bed."

Bulma paused, disturbed at her husband's statement before she realized what "big man" he was referring to.

"You jackass! I'm talking about Trunks. Is he okay?"

Vegeta laughed imagining the blush creeping across his wife's face. "He's alive."

"Well let me talk to him. Put him on the phone."

"What for? He can't even form decent sentences. What can he say to you?"

"He and I have our own special language. Don't worry, I can understand him perfectly."

"Hn, this is why the boy is timid and weak. You keep treating him like a baby."

"That's because he is a baby, Vegeta."

Vegeta threw his head back and laughed. "Anyone whose shit smells as bad as his does is a grown ass man. He's going to learn a thing or two in acting like a real saiyan."

Bulma felt slightly uneasy by Vegeta's statement but she digressed. She knew whatever method her husband performed wouldn't cause any physical damage to their son, but mentally and emotionally was another thing.

"Okay, Vegeta," Bulma replied, giving her husband the benefit of the doubt. "Just go easy on him."

"I will do no such thing."

"Vegeta please, don't push him too hard. At the most get him to use the potty. That's the biggest challenge."

"Is it?" Vegeta contemplated her acquisition. He didn't see what the big deal was. "Fine."

"Good. Now I will check on you later in the week to see how you two are doing. Give Trunks a big kiss for me. I love you both."

"I know. Goodbye."

Vegeta hung up the phone before Bulma could reiterate the same response to him. He turned around and stared at Trunks who was attacking a piece of toast he managed to steal from his father's plate. His eyes narrowed into slits while he contemplated the nature of the term he used to describe his son's health. With much certainty he began to doubt if Trunks would make it through the morning "alive".

.

.

.

.

With his son tucked beneath his arm, Vegeta was in flight with his destination being the house of his long-time rival. He occasionally glanced down at Trunks, whose eyes were closed entirely, his small fingers digging into his father's skin.

Vegeta shook his head with disgust. His son was frightened. Although he concluded the boy's lack of courage stemmed from his mother's coddling, he had no one to blame for this but himself. He'd flown around the small mud-ball planet defined as Earth for years and never once did he take his son along. He cursed himself for always allowing his wife to "show" their son what flying was all about in the infernal contraptions she built on a daily basis. That was no way to travel, especially for a person born with elite alien D.N.A. Being free and out in the open was something his son had no recollection of. He had to remedy that situation as well. Slowly he began to wonder if he would have enough time to transform his son, given the laundry list of issues that continued to come up.

Shaking his head, Vegeta stared down at the small cottage home of his rival. Despite the distance, Vegeta shook his head at the size of the house. It was no bigger than the spaceship he used to travel to the planet for the first time. Although that was a presumption, Vegeta felt it was no further from the truth. He pondered how anyone could live in such a cramp space for days, let alone years. His own beliefs aside, he glanced at his son who still looked frightened with his eyes shut tightly. Vegeta bared his teeth as he shook his son from side to side.

"Open your eyes and look, boy. Stop being such a baby."

Trunks slowly opened his left eye and looked around. Seeing movement in front of him, he shut his eye swiftly, much to Vegeta's chagrin.

"Open your damn eyes. Don't tell me you're afraid of a little bird."

Opening his eyes, Trunks watched as the small bird flew past him, focused on its own destination. He smiled and reached toward the feathered creature.

"That bird isn't being carried by his father. He's flying on his own, just like you should," Vegeta glanced at the scenery below. A sly smirk crept across his face. "It's time you learned how to fly."

Trunks hung in the air oblivious to his father's actions, even as the feeling of Vegeta's fingertips began to fade away. In an instant, Trunks found himself free falling toward the ground, a long wail emanating from the back of his throat. He looked around; awaiting the sight of his father but upon seeing no one increased the sound of his wails. He shut his eyes tightly as water formed at the corner of his eyes. His lips quivered as he felt something grab at the back of his shirt. He refrained from opening his eyes while he waited to continue sailing toward the ground below.

Grabbing the back of his son's shirt, Vegeta frowned as he stared at his cowering son. He felt partly concerned with the effect his experiment was having on Trunks but quickly ignored his feelings and held his son up at eye level.

"Stop all that crying!"

Trunks closed his hands into fists and pressed them against his eyes, still shaken from his slip from his father's hands. He turned his body and cling to his father, holding on as if his life depended on it, a move Vegeta hastily growled at. His eyes shifted to the left as a person materialized beside him and his son, a look of concern on their face.

"A little impatient, aren't you, Gohan?"

The teenager eyes continued to fill with concern as he watched Trunks continued to wipe away his tears, his hands and lips still shaking uncontrollably.

"What happened to Trunks? I could hear him screaming from inside the house."

"He's fine." Vegeta replied curtly as he began lowering himself and his son toward the ground. Trunks held onto his father tighter as they reached the ground safely.

Walking toward the house, the prince stopped momentarily and glanced back at Gohan who landed behind him with the same look across his face.

"Stop looking at us like that. You look just like your idiot father. The boy is fine."

"I know, Vegeta. Did you have to drop him though? I could feel his energy spike above normal from inside. He was terrified."

Vegeta turned his nose upward. "The only way he'll learn."

Gohan prepared to protest further but the door to his house opened up, revealing his mother holding the hand of his younger brother, Goten. The pair stood in the doorway, staring at the shaken infant and annoyed father. Chi-Chi's eyes narrowed in anger but Goten smiled as he walked shakily toward his sniffling friend.

"Trunks!" he shouted, throwing his arms in the air.

Lowering his hands, Trunks turned toward Goten and smiled, wiggling away from his father's grip. Vegeta watched in surprise as his son dropped to the ground, running toward his friend. All of his shaking, crying and wheezing had faded away.

"Vegeta," Chi-Chi started sternly, much to Vegeta's chagrin. "What did you do to him? He looks terrified."

Vegeta didn't look Chi-Chi's way, only focusing on his son and his playmate. He couldn't keep his eyes off the son of his rival. The child was a spitting image of his father. His mind began to process the events from months prior as he remembered the last time he laid witness to Goku's last battle. He shook his head and turned toward Chi-Chi who still looked at him with a look of disdain.

"The boy is here. I'll pick him up later."

As he turned to leave he felt a hand press against his forearm. Glancing through the corner of his eyes, he growled as he stared into Chi-Chi's eyes as she held him in place. He contemplated ripping the flesh from her bones but held his position and glared at her as his only response.

"Where do you think you're going, Vegeta?" Chi-Chi moved herself in front of the disapproving glare of the saiyan prince. "You can't just leave Trunks here and go off to do who knows what. You were put in charge of him."

Vegeta scoffed. "You wanted him over here and you got him. Teach him not to piss and shit on himself then send him back to the house. I'll be there waiting."

Chi-Chi's expression grew in anger as she tightened her grip on Vegeta's arm. Her eyes never swayed from him as she closed the limited gap located between them.

"We were supposed to take them to the park but that cannot happen if Trunks is unable to use the bathroom on his own," She sighed and turned her head upward. "If not, he will have accidents while at the park."

"That's what that infernal diaper covering his ass is for and anyway, you'll be there won't you? What reason do I have to go if you'll already be there? The one who has already gone through this annoying phase of accidents and disgusting smells."

"You are his guardian, not me. It is your job to make sure he can do something as simple as use the bathroom on his own."

Vegeta growled, his anger intensifying. "Listen here, I have enough to teach the boy, not that it is any of your concern. Trunks doesn't have to go to the park with you and your brats. He has other matters to concern himself with." He turned toward his son who happily rolled around on the grass with Goten, both enjoying their degree of horse playing. "Trunks, let's go."

Pulling his arm away, Vegeta walked away from Chi-Chi, keeping his head raised. He was losing his patience and before he lost anymore he concluded he had to get away from the slew of noise emulating from the hole on the face of Goku's wife.

"Vegeta wait," Chi-Chi began to protest as she extended her left arm toward the prince. "There is no need to take Trunks home. Goten has been looking forward to this time with him and I don't want to hurt either one of their feelings."

"All this talk about feelings," Vegeta turned toward Chi-Chi with a look of disgust on his face. "Feelings are for the weak. You and Kakarot raised your boys to have _feelings_ and look where it's gotten you, look where it got Kakarot. His feelings made him sacrifice his own life. Your oldest son's feelings almost cost us all of our lives and there is no way in hell I will allow you to teach my son about feelings. There is no use for them in battle."

"What battle? The world has been at peace since my Goku sacrificed himself. Showing feelings is not the same as having a heart, something you lack in both departments," Chi-Chi angrily answered back. "If you want to run away from a challenge then go ahead. I'll take care of Trunks myself."

"What challenge are you talking about?"

"You think potty training a child is the same as training for battle against one of those aliens who come here to take over the earth? No, it is not the same, especially with a child that exhibits pure strength and speed far past your own."

"Hn," Vegeta rolled his eyes. "Past your own perhaps, but that doesn't mean my son can out run me or out class me. I gave him every ounce of strength he has."

"That may be so but even your strength isn't enough to keep up with a toddler that really has no will to lose their diaper and have to use a contraption twice their size. Even if you use one that suits them, they always put up a fight."

"Your child can act that way but my son knows better. I can get him to use that miniature toilet in less than a day if I wanted to."

Chi-Chi smiled, folding her arms against her chest. "Is that so? Well, how about this, Vegeta? If you can train Trunks to use the potty I have upstairs before five o'clock this afternoon then I will gladly take your son off your hands. You can go and train to your heart's content-" She briefly glanced at her eldest son, startling him. "-and I'll even let Gohan go with you."

Both Vegeta and Gohan gasped as they studied the features on the matriarch of the Son household's face. She was serious, her expression never wavering for even a second. She was standing her guard on her belief and the knowledge that only a mother with practice could acquire.

"Mom, are you sure?" Gohan inquired, still in shock over his mother's statement.

"Of course Gohan. You've been studying very hard and I'm sure Vegeta would love a partner to train with. If not you, then I'm sure he would use Trunks and he's my friend's son. I can't let him use an infant for training but that is only if he can potty train his son."

"And if he cannot?"

"If Vegeta cannot potty train Trunks by the time given then he will do me a favor. Your grandfather is still ill and I would like to visit him but I do not want Goten to get sick from being around his grandfather so-"She turned toward Vegeta. "If you cannot potty train Trunks by five then you will take Goten for the evening."

Vegeta clenched his fist and held it in the air, shaking it with authority in front of Chi-Chi's face.

"I will do no such thing."

"Then, are you saying you won't accept my challenge?" Chi-Chi closed her eyes momentarily then opened her right eye enough to look out toward the angry prince. "I thought with all of your boasting you would be able to handle such a menial task."

Vegeta paused, contemplating his options. He had confidence, possibly more than he ever thought he could give the challenge presented to him. Since his wife's departure all he was told was how difficult potty training a child was but what did she, or Kakarot's wife for that matter, know about difficult? He quickly reminisced on his past and all of the difficult choices he had to make, some more easily than others, but that was beside the point. Something as simple as teaching a child not to soil themselves was mere child's play in his eyes and he planned on proving that fact to the loud woman standing in front of him with an arrogant look seeping through her eyes. He despised the look on her face and wanted more than anything to erase that expression for good.

"Fine." Vegeta turned away from Chi-Chi and glanced at his son. He would never back away from a challenge, no matter what the consequence. He glanced back, making sure he and Chi-Chi locked eyes to seal the deal. "You're on."


	5. Visualization

5:15 pm

Vegeta tapped his foot impatiently against the hard wood floor while he glanced aimlessly at the silver wristwatch he had grown accustomed to wearing under his wife's request. It was the only way she could ensure that he couldn't use not knowing what time it was as an excuse for being late for dinner or anything she felt he should arrive on time for. He began to grind his teeth uncontrollably as the second hand ticked mercilessly around the circular metronome. The sound of fussing and crying invaded his sensitive hearing and made him bite down on the side of his tongue.

"Dammit!" he shouted, angry at his inability to control his own actions.

His dark eyes narrowed as he folded his arms against his chest and continued to watch precious moments tick away. Vegeta's head perked up at the sound of a car door slamming. Without hesitation, the indignant saiyan pulled the front door ajar, startling the pimple-faced teenager standing on the opposite side.

"It's about fucking time!" Vegeta snatched the six plastic bags from the teenagers' sweaty palms. "What the hell took you so long?"

"Sir...you order a substantial amount of food. It takes time to prepare it all," the teenager replied shakily.

Vegeta huffed as he examined the six bags in his hands. "Whatever, kid." He shifted the bags into one hand and tossed the teenager a small rolled up wade of cash. "Now get off my property."

Shifting through the cash, the teenager appeared perplexed. "Sir, you forgot the tip."

Vegeta raised his left eyebrow then the middle finger on his left hand. "There you go."

He slammed the door shut without relaying another word. Satisfied with his treatment toward the frail teen, he turned and walked toward the kitchen with the food in tow. His eyes narrowed as he glared at the two toddlers sitting patiently at the dining room table.

"Dinner!" Trunks shouted as he banged his hands against the table top.

"Food!" Goten chimed in, following the same antics as his friend.

Vegeta grumbled beneath his breath as he carried the food to the kitchen counter and began to remove the contents in each bag. Hearing the sound of utensils slamming against the wood finish caused his temples on the sides of his head to throb. As he continued to separate the items, he couldn't help but remember how he found himself in this particular predicament.

∞ᵜ∞

_5 hours earlier..._

_Vegeta stood defiantly in the kitchen of the house of his former rival, his arms folded and pressed firmly against his rigid chest. His dark eyes shifted precariously from left to right then up and down. He huffed and walked around the small table that the Son family normally gathered toward during different hours of the day to consume their meals. His eyes shifted in every direction as he emerged back in his original spot. His palms slammed against the table top while he leaned forward, his nose raised and his eyes closing into narrow slits._

_"Hey, Vegeta?" Gohan spoke as he stood against the doorframe that separated one room from the other. "Can you tell me again why you are staring at Goten's potty like that?"_

_Vegeta grumbled and raised his eyes momentarily to cast a menial glare toward Gohan, then focused his attention back toward the small red and white clown chair with the clown's mouth acting as the seat._

_"Idiot boy, you've been away from fighting for too long if you cannot tell what I'm doing." Vegeta glanced at the features of the potty individually. "As in battle, you must know how your opponent works both inside," He lifted the seat up and peered inside. "and out."_

_"But it's just a potty. Its main goal is to catch waste, that's it."_

_"I know that, do you think I'm stupid?" He swiftly shot Gohan a glare, daring him to respond. "I need to mentally prepare for this. Anyone can see that."_

_Gohan appeared perplexed as he watched Vegeta apply and remove the potty seat cover in continuous motions. He glanced up at the circular clock on the wall that signified how much time had passed since his mother's departure and since Vegeta began his staring contest._

_"It's twelve o'clock now so you only have five hours left," Gohan finally admitted._

_Vegeta smirked and set the dismantled chair back on the table. "That is more than enough time. I can complete this task in less than an hour."_

_Gohan immediately raised his eyebrows at what he conceived was nothing more than an outlandish statement. It had no merit and quite frankly he had a hard time believing any part of it._

_"I don't know, I mean, I watched my mother try to train Goten and even after having the experience she still has had a hard time with it."_

_"That's because Kakarot's youngest brat takes after his father in more than just looks," Vegeta spitefully replied._

_Gohan only rolled his eyes and continued. "Yeah well, even though that isn't true I still think you can't do this in the time allotted."_

_Vegeta growled as he felt his patience steadily begin to fade away._

_"Why the hell are you here anyway, boy? You should have gone with your mother."_

_"She thought it would be best if I stayed behind to make sure everything went...smoothly."_

_"What? Is she afraid something would happen if I were left alone with the boys?" Vegeta questioned with a mysterious grin beginning to form on his face._

_"No, I don't think that's it," Gohan lied. "It's just for her peace of mind."_

_He knew all too well why he was entrusted with staying behind. It was his duty to make sure his younger brother and the house in general would remain as they were the last time Chi-Chi laid her eyes on them. His mother trusted him and given her knowledge of his strength in comparison to Vegeta's she had no problem handing the reins over to her eldest child._

_Vegeta studied Gohan's face then took a quick whiff of the air. "You're just like that son of mine. I can smell the shit coming out of you from a distance except yours comes out of your mouth."_

_He turned away, not giving Gohan a chance at a rebuttal. He wasn't a fool. He knew why Gohan was left behind, leaving Vegeta with nothing more than a babysitter. He chuckled to himself, thinking of how quickly he could bring the house crashing at either one of their feet if he so desired. Deciding to let the matter go, for now, Vegeta picked up the potty and walked into the adjoining room where Trunks and Goten resided._

_"Okay boy, get over here." Vegeta demanded as he pointed a single finger at his son. He frowned as Goten slowly stood up and walked toward him. "Do you see me pointing at you? Idiots! All of you born from that ass clown share one damn brain."_

_Gohan shook his head as he stood in his original spot now watching the drama unfold between his brother and Vegeta. He slowly emerged further into the room and scooped Goten up into his arms._

_"I will keep him out of the way. I wouldn't want him to be the cause of your losing the bet."_

_Vegeta blinked his eyes while contemplating where Gohan was getting his unbridled courage. Never before could he remember the brat of his enemy speaking up to him, or anyone for that matter. It briefly startled him, but Vegeta regained his composure almost immediately so as not to have Gohan lay witness to his shaky resolve._

_"Just keep his ass quiet and you do the same or else." He turned toward Trunks who still hadn't moved since first being called. "Come here, son."_

_Trunks slowly stood up and ran toward his father with his arms open wide, expecting an embrace of some sort. He hugged his father's leg then glanced up, showing the pink gums in his mouth._

_"You are going to use the potty today, son. Right now. Do not disappoint me."_

_Trunks tilted his head to the side and giggled then hugged his father's leg once more. Vegeta glanced at Gohan who was smiling at the innocent exchange between father and son. Twisting his lips into a frown, Vegeta pushed Trunks away._

_"Right now this is business between you and me. I'm not your father until you show me you no longer need a diaper on your ass, got it?"_

_Trunks nodded his head and walked toward his previous position, picking up a small toy boat._

_"I got it!" he cheered as he threw the hand holding the toy in the air._

_Vegeta slid the palm of his right hand against his face as he mused over his son's reaction. Glancing through the corner of his eye, he growled as he watched Gohan and Goten enjoy the antics of his son as if they were watching a well casted production. Refusing to allow his son to be a joke, Vegeta slammed the potty on the floor and pointed a damning index finger at it._

_"Get on that clown's face and start releasing your bowels."_

_Trunks stared at the clown with fear flashing over his cerulean eyes. He all but began to pee himself right then and there as he stared at the features that made up the clown's face._

_"Vegeta, I think he's afraid of it," Gohan said, noticing the fear on Trunks face._

_"Nonsense," Vegeta walked over and picked up his son, going against his previous declaration of refraining from holding his son. "Get on the potty."_

_"No!" Trunks replied frightfully as he grabbed onto the material that made up his father's shirt. "No, no, no!"_

_Vegeta grunted at the trembling child pressed against his body. His eyebrows twitched while he tried to pry his son away._

_"Do you think I'm playing with you? Get on the potty!"_

_"No, no!" Trunks wailed as he slipped away from his father before Vegeta could realize what had happened._

_The toddler ran shakily into the kitchen, not turning back to see if he was being followed._

_He ran toward the rear door and stood in the corner, crouching down as he placed his hands on top of his head._

_Vegeta mumbled obscenities beneath his breath and glanced up at Gohan who had an amused look on his face, which agitated him more. Standing up, Vegeta charged into the kitchen and caught sight of Trunks immediately. He wasted little time in approaching his son and stood over the trembling child with authority._

_"You will not make a joke out of me, boy, you hear me? Do you think I'm going to allow you to continue to piss and shit on yourself this week? Stand up right now."_

_Trunks pressed his hands against the floor and stood up at his father's request. He rubbed the back of his hands against his moist eyelids and started to pout._

_"I don't wanna sit on the potty."_

_"Why the hell not?"_

_Trunks sniffled before responding. "It's going to eat me."_

_Vegeta rolled his eyes. He was growing tired of his son's immature actions, especially in the face of his adversary's children._

_"Suck it up! Either it eats you or I blast you, your choice."_

_Trunks couldn't understand his father's threatening words but he recognized his facial expression. He had seen it often, followed by the slew of insults Vegeta usually spewed afterwards. Turning his head, Trunks glanced at the clown shaped potty, still feeling uneasy. He didn't like it, no if, ands or buts about it. He placed his hands on the waistline of his pants and looked up at his father._

_"I don't like that," He pointed a finger at the potty for emphasis. "It's scary."_

_"I'll show you scary if you don't quit playing these infantile games."_

_Supporting his son beneath the armpits, Vegeta held the child outwardly and walked back into the common area. He glanced at Gohan and Goten who were both sitting on the couch watching television._

_"Boy, take Kakarot's look-a-like and go somewhere else."_

_"What for?" Gohan questioned, keeping his eyes on the television screen._

_"You two are nothing more than distractions."_

_"We aren't doing anything. Just watching television."_

_Vegeta growled but turned his attention back toward his son who was desperately trying to turn his head so he could watch the television. Using the child's sudden distraction as his leeway, Vegeta knelt down and sat Trunks on the mouth of the clown. His efforts were in vain as Trunks realized the position he was in and began to toss and turn, trying to free himself once again from his father's grip._

_"No!"_

_"Dammit boy!"_

_Vegeta was at his wits end as he and his son pushed against one another, each trying to gain the upper hand. Grabbing his son's arms, Vegeta held them in place then smiled, Trunks had nowhere to go._

_Trunks kicked his feet, his cries intensifying as he struggled against his father's strength. The experience was new to him. Never before was he forced to do something that he didn't want to do and it was driving him insane. He continued to kick and scream while water started to reform against his eyelids._

_"Vegeta," Gohan intervened. He could no longer stand to hear Trunks cry out in anguish. "How about you let me help you?"_

_Taking his eyes off his son, Vegeta shot Gohan an icy glare._

_"I would never ask someone like __**you**__ for help."_

_"Then can you at least check to see if he hasn't already gone to the bathroom on himself? It would defeat the purpose if that was the case."_

_Vegeta slowly began to loosen the grip on Trunks as his attention was diverted away._

_"Shut up! I don't need your help."_

_Trunks, unlike his father, stayed focus and pulled away from Vegeta as quickly as he could. He didn't look back once again as he ran off in a different direction than earlier. He wanted to avoid capture at all cost._

_"Shit!" Vegeta stood up and walked toward Gohan with anger seething through his eyes. Their chests touched briefly as Vegeta grabbed a handful of Gohan's shirt and pulled the teenager closer. "Look what you fucking did!"_

_"Vegeta, I'm sorry. I was just trying to help."_

_"Weren't you saying earlier I couldn't do this? So you meant I couldn't do this without your help, is that it?" Vegeta jerked Gohan closer and snarled. "I don't need anyone's help, especially yours."_

_"I didn't mean it that way, Vegeta. I just couldn't take his cries anymore. What if you give him an hour or two to calm down, then try again?"_

_The two saiyans stared at one another in silence until eventually Vegeta decided he needed his space. He doubly released Gohan's shirt, shoving the teen back against the coffee table._

_"Fine, I'll leave the boy alone for now," Vegeta glanced at the smile that appeared on Gohan's face. It made him sick to his stomach. "Let's go."_

_Gohan blinked as he watched Vegeta walk toward the door and pull it open, almost removing it from its hinges._

_"Go? Go where?"_

_Vegeta kept his back to Gohan while taking a single step outside._

_"You have a problem with how I handle things with my son. You continue to stick your nose where it doesn't belong and you have been relentlessly trying to push my buttons."_

_"Vegeta, I haven't-"_

_"Don't give me that shit!" Vegeta glanced over his left shoulder menacingly. "You've been running your mouth ever since that mother of yours left and now I'm going to shut it for good."_

_"You want to fight? Vegeta, we're supposed to be watching Trunks and Goten. They-"_

_"-can kiss my ass! Get out here right now!"_

_Gohan stood in silence as Vegeta left the confinement of his home and continued walking until he was satisfied with his location. He was silent as he stood in the doorway, unsure if he should venture outside. Feeling a tug on his pants leg, he looked down and into the eyes of his brother._

_"Gohan, Trunks' daddy is mad."_

_Gohan turned his attention outside and watched Vegeta stand in the middle of his yard with his arms folded across his chest. The strong gust of wind that encircled Vegeta did little to sway him; he remained poised and ready for a long drag-out fight._

_Gohan sighed at the inevitable. "Goten, stay inside and find Trunks then you two sit here and watch television, okay?"_

_"I wanna go with you," Goten pleaded._

_"No, now go find Trunks."_

_Goten pouted but did as he was told. As his younger brother disappeared, Gohan turned and made his way outside, mentally preparing himself for the hell he was about to walk into._

∞ᵜ∞

_3:31 pm_

_Vegeta attacked with force, throwing a single punch toward Gohan and watching as it was blocked with ease. The two carried on against one another despite the obvious fatigue that was beginning to seep into both of their battered bodies. They looked disheveled with their shirts and pants torn in various places and beads of sweat running away from their foreheads, finally settling beneath the base of their chins._

_Vegeta blocked a series of rights and lefts then phased behind Gohan, firing a single shot toward the weary teen. Gohan spun around and deflected the blast with ease then charged toward Vegeta with his arms pulled back. He originally was against the idea of being forced to raise his hands against the saiyan prince but he had to admit now, in the thick of it, that it wasn't as bad as he originally expected._

_As he neared Vegeta, the teenager threw his arm forward and fired a single blast then phased away before he could witness Vegeta deflect it as he had done earlier. Vegeta remained alert as the blast sailed into the trees, blowing away a few leaves in the process. His eyes darted aimlessly as he floated precariously above the ground, anticipating his rival's next attack. He did not have to wait long as Gohan appeared behind him and hooked his arms around Vegeta's torso, pressing their bodies close together._

_"I suggest you take this battle seriously, boy. I have no qualms about killing you right here and now," Vegeta spoke calmly as he was not impressed with Gohan's actions._

_Gohan smirked as he accelerated his power, pushing it forward and releasing his transformation into a super saiyan two._

_"Likewise," he replied._

_Vegeta had little time to react as Gohan pressed his palms against his back and fired a double shot that sent him sailing a couple of feet away toward the ground below. Gohan watched in triumph as his blasts exploded on contact, creating a myriad of dust and grass surrounding the air. His body grew stiff, however, as three blasts sailed through the wreckage with swift speed, granting him only a few moments to put his arms up in defense._

_"Too slow."_

_Gohan's eyes enlarged as he heard Vegeta's voice. His head was thrown violently toward the right as Vegeta delivered a single punch to his face. The overzealous prince's moves quickened as he grabbed the back of Gohan's tattered shirt and delivered another devastating punch to the teenager's face. He studied the angry gleam in Gohan's eyes and capitalized as swiftly as he could._

_Transforming into a super saiyan, Vegeta flipped his body upside down so that he now hovered over his recuperating rival. __Vegeta bent his body to the side and held the back of his hands parallel to each other as a purple ki began to conduct against his palms._

_"Gallick Gun!"_

_Gohan gasped un-expectantly as the ball of energy expelled from Vegeta's hands and pressed against his ribs with force. The energy sent his body sailing toward the ground rapidly. Vegeta stayed on him and phased from view, reappearing beneath Gohan's falling body. He positioned his hands next to each other once more, determined to finish the boy off completely._

_"Final Flash!"_

_As his blast sailed upward toward its target, Vegeta raised his eyebrows as he watched Gohan twist his body in mid-air, sending his original blast toward the ground. The bloodied teen drew his hands against his right side and generated energy against his palms._

_"Kame-hame-haaa!"_

_He pushed his arms forward and sent a blue burst of energy toward Vegeta's impending blast to intercept it before it reached him. The blasts collided head on, creating a wind effect that destroyed a few trees nearby. The two screamed in anger as they released their energy levels past their breaking point._

_Vegeta grunted as he watched Gohan's blast begin to engulf his attack, increasing his odds of being hit head-on. He pushed the last bit of his energy forward in an attempt to spare his life but Gohan's blast outshines his and before he could react, a gulf of white light completely surrounded him._

_As the dust settled, Gohan panted as he released his Super Saiyan transformation, returning to his normal form. He pressed his feet onto the grass and watched as Vegeta emerged a little worse for wear but still alive. His shirt had been blown completely off his body and his pants were barely hanging on by a thread but Vegeta didn't care about any of that. He had just been beaten by someone nearly twice his junior and it was eating him up inside._

_"You alright, Vegeta? Look, I apologize for the way-"_

_"Don't you dare fucking apologize me to. You got it? Don't you ever show me any fucking pity!" Vegeta turned his head to the side and released a glob of blood from inside his mouth._

_"I'm not, I mean, I didn't mean to attack you like that."_

_"Yes you did or you wouldn't have done it. Your behavior and even your attitude today resembled that of your battle with Cell. You beat me, fair and square so leave it at that."_

_Gohan nodded as he watched Vegeta steady himself as his knees slowly began to shake._

_"Gohan, tell me something," Vegeta's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the victor of their scrimmage. "Since your battle with Cell, have you been training?"_

_"Not really, I mean, I've done a little bit of training here and there but I've most been studying at my mother's request. Why?"_

_Vegeta didn't give Gohan the answer he desired. He only cursed himself for still not having surpassed or at the very least come close to the substantial amount of power that Gohan exhibited at the Cell games. He took his defeat in stride but reminded himself that he needed to work ten times as hard if he ever expected to bring down the son of his rival._

_"Hey, look at that," Gohan motioned behind Vegeta. "Goten and Trunks are fighting as well."_

_Glancing over his shoulder, Vegeta's face froze as he watched the actions of the youngest pair of saiyans. His mouth opened and shook in shock as he watched Goten lay over his son, pinning the lavender-haired boy's shoulders to the dirt._

_"What the…?" Vegeta was at a loss for words. His own humiliations he could withstand but as he witnessed another member of Goku's family triumph over someone of his lineage, it only made him growl in anger. His dark eyes fell upon the smile on his son's face, the laughter that originated from the back of his child's throat. It was driving him mad. Without provocation, the battered prince stormed toward the toddlers, tossing Goten off of his son and pulling Trunks to his feet by the front of his shirt._

_"Have you lost your mind?" he questioned with authority as his son stared confusingly at him. "Don't ever let the son of an ass get the upper hand on you, ever."_

_Trunks appeared confused, and rightfully so. His father's words were all foreign to him. He looked and pointed to Goten then looked back at Vegeta for some sort of clarification. Vegeta sighed as he settled his anger. He was in no mood to start an explanation of what he just witnessed. Without deriving another word, he collected his son in his arms and turned his attention toward Gohan._

_"Deal's off, we're going home."_

_"Are you sure? Well okay." Gohan helped his younger brother to his feet as the small boy on the verge of tears from Vegeta's forceful interference. "Are you going to take Goten with you?"_

_"What a stupid question. Of course not."_

_"But the deal was if you couldn't potty train Trunks then you had to take Goten."_

_"Did I say I couldn't potty train my son? We just have better things to do."_

_Gohan watched in disbelief as Vegeta prepared to take off into the air with Trunks clutching to him. It was obvious to Gohan that the potty wasn't the only thing the toddler was afraid of._

_"What should I tell my mother?"_

_Vegeta paused and contemplated having Gohan tell his mother something unflattering as a response for him disappearing so soon. Glancing through the corner of his eyes, he watched as Goten wiped his nose against the back his hand. His blood boiled as he remembered the image of his son being pinned by someone who should never have had the upper hand. The wheels began to turn in his head as he raised his eyes toward Gohan._

_"I'll take him with me, just this once. Bring him here."_

_Gohan hesitated as he pressed his hand firmly but gently against his brother's shoulder. Vegeta's sudden change put him on edge and understandably so. He couldn't remember a time when Vegeta went back on his word, no matter what it was concerning._

_"Well move it! I don't have all day!" Vegeta shouted, startling Gohan out of his daze. He watched as Gohan knelt down in front of Goten, whispering to him in a low tone. He rolled his eyes. "Give me a break."_

_Despite having not taught his son how to use the bathroom on his own, Vegeta understood that he had plenty of time to complete that task on his own terms, on his own time. He hated reneging on a deal once it was made without having made some sort of progress but the situation as a whole had changed dramatically. No longer was his son's bathroom regiment the most important thing for him to learn. There was something more important than that, something that was right in front of his face. As he watched Gohan walk toward him with his little brother in tow he knew what now had to be done, potty training would have to wait._

∞ᵜ∞

5:45 pm

Vegeta stood in front of the kitchen door with his arms folded across his chest. He watched the interaction between his son and the son of the only other full blooded saiyan eat and converse with each other. A smile formed across his face as he glanced at the watch on his wrist.

_Kakarot's annoying woman won't be here to pick up her brat for a couple of hours. _He glanced at his only son. _You are going to learn how to fight._

His smile increased as he gave Goten a once over. _And you're going to help him._


End file.
